SEPTEMBER 30
I PICKED up these blank CDs at Best Buy to replace the crappy Memorex ones we currently use. I didn't realise they look like 45s, even down to the "grooves":
Groovy...
SEPTEMBER 27
THEY never put toys like these in adults' cereal, do they?
SEPTEMBER 26
LAST weekend Ev and I finally got around to going to one of the Fresh & Easy stores that's opened over here. They're owned by UK supermarket giant Tesco and doubtless are the first step in its quest for global domination. Of course when I heard Tesco were opening shops in the USA I thought they'd stock nothing but British food. They don't, but I still found some good stuff.
Now this is more like it - proper bangers! We bought these intending to chuck them in the freezer as they were about to go off. Unfortunately after spending a couple of hours in the boot of the Mini the packaging expanded which apparently isn't a good sign, so we binned them.
I see Tesco has caught the American disease of slapping the word "gourmet" on just about everything.
OH MY GOD! REAL BACON! BUY IT NOW!
Er... I have absolutely no idea what this is.
All I need now is Indian food and I'm set.
No Indian stuff yet but they have proper sarnies.
Finally some cheap bloody tea.
There is a god.
Make that two gods.
I can assure you that British stores have staff. Fresh & Easy, however, has gone the automated route and it looks like our local Ralphs is going the same way. The store itself is pretty basic but we're going back at some point for more chicken makhani, bacon, sausages and tea. Oh, and chocolate pudding.
SEPTEMBER 24
I DON'T know if anyone's interested but there's a beach umbrella available for pickup on the left shoulder of the 710 about half a mile before the Firestone Boulevard exit.
SEPTEMBER 23
THE latest addition to the Planet Mut "They're Not Toys, They're Ornaments" Mini Collection turned up today. The Mini in question - the Hot Wheels 2008 Chrome limited edition - was just as the seller described except for one small detail: it stank of cigarettes. And not the good ciggie smell, the "Mel, I'm stressed, give us a sniff of your pack of Kools" smell, oh no. This was the full-on "smoked fag-end that's been under the car seat for a week and now no one wants a lift off you" stench. Did I really smell like that for 23 years?
SEPTEMBER 21: BET YOU WISH YOU'D SENT MONEY
AS MY attempt to blackmail all three of you failed miserably, you're going to have to suffer another shedload of racing photos. But as it's gone midnight I'm fast-forwarding to the grand finale - the women's demolition derby or, as I prefer to think of it, "women driving normally".
First off the track is wetted with water and detergent to make it slippery. Apparently, this is done so the cars don't go too fast and hit each other too hard.
The photographers get themselves sorted.
The cars get in position in a rough circle facing outwards. The white tyres mark the boundaries of the derby.
And we're off. As all the cars are rear-wheel drive they're mostly driven in reverse as they're easier to control.
With the track bearing a stunning resemblance to Macy's car park during the Christmas sales and most of the cars immobilised the race came to a close. I think we're going again on October 25, so start sending that money!
SEPTEMBER 21
I SEE they've put new carpet in the elevators. I hope our neighbours don't eat it.
SEPTEMBER 19
AN EX-COLLEAGUE whose new job recently took her to Hawaii for a week sent me this photo of a street cat she saw on her morning walks. She gets to go to Hawaii and see cats, I get to go to Subway and see an eight-foot Frankenstein.
SEPTEMBER 18
WHAT a job - staggering around the entrance to a Hallowe'en store in an eight-foot tall air-conditioned inflatable Frankenstein suit. I wonder if they have any vacancies?
SEPTEMBER 17
SO MANY clouds, but still no rain. When I lived in the UK I was diagnosed with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). In a nutshell, the long dark winter days depressed the crap out of me and made me want to stay in bed all day. Bright sunny days, on the other hand, made me happy and want to go out and do stuff and talk to people. You know, act normally.
But now I'm living in Southern California I seem to have SAD in reverse; the endless monotony of the hot, sunny days gets me down while even the lightest amount of cloud cover has me happy as Larry. (One of the things that never fails to amuse me is hearing Californians say what a beautiful day it is. I'm assuming they must have slept through the previous 245 identical days.) And when it rains you'd think I'd won the lottery. Of course if I was back in Blighty I'd be moaning about the bloody awful weather and wishing it was sunny, so I guess I can't win either way.
SEPTEMBER 16
I WISH I had the chance to write headlines as good as this.
SEPTEMBER 14 (CAUTION - MAY CONTAIN CARS)
LAST night we headed over to the racetrack at Irwindale. This session looked like a good one as the final race of the night was set to be a trailer race. So first off, here's the obligatory autograph session photos...
I'm going to skip the first couple of races ("thank Christ" I hear all three of you cry) and get on to the best bit - i.e. the smash. First off, car #85 (ironically sponsored by the California Highway Patrol) hits the wall and takes out #59 and #2...
...which is then hit head-on by car #98.
OK, now we're onto the highlight of the night - the trailer racing. This has to be one of the funniest things I've seen since England played Trinidad & Tobago in the 2006 World Cup.
Yes, car #34 really is towing an old Beetle. And the boat stayed there for the duration of the race.
Car #8 takes a closer look at #99's trailer.
Despite its trailer now resembling an Alabama front yard, car #99 goes for another lap. IN REVERSE.
#99 finally gives up the ghost, which is lucky as if it hadn't stopped there car #98 wouldn't have gone into it.
And through it.
Then #98 comes shooting across the track...
...and straight into the wall, sending photographers flying.
With the track looking like a teenager's bedroom floor the race was stopped. It was originally going to be run on a figure-eight circuit but at the last minute that was changed to an oval course as it would have lasted about 30 seconds on the loop. Just to warn you, next week it's the women's demolition derby (so just some average female driving then) and we're going - so if you don't want another load of car racing photos, start sending money!
SEPTEMBER 12
THE new valve caps for my tyres turned up today. I had to buy new ones since two of the old ones went missing after I took the Mini in to get the pressures checked. Another of the many great things about having a Mini is being able to accessorize it, and the checkered caps go with the roof and wing mirrors.
Of course all I have to do now is wash the bloody car so it's as bright as its new valve caps. But as I've failed to do this for the past five weekends in a row I'm not holding up much hope of getting it done tomorrow. It's not been washed since late April and it's in an extraordinary state, covered in grime and dust and about as shiny as a small black car that's covered with grime and dust. Hopefully tomorrow I'll get my act together long enough to a) remember it needs washing and b) actually go to the car wash.
SEPTEMBER 11
OVER the years I've picked up an incredible amount of trivial crap from reading and watching TV. Ev even wants me to get on a quiz show like Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune as she thinks I'm autistic I'll do really well on them (a couple of years ago I did actually apply to go on Jeopardy but didn't hear anything back).
Anyway, one of the "fascinating" facts I've picked up is how pork became such an important part of the Spanish diet. Apparently when Ferdinand and Isabella were driving the Moors out of southern Spain, eating pork became a sure-fire way of proving you weren't a Muslim or Jew and therefore wouldn't be burned, imprisoned, chucked off a cliff or interrogated. And in case you're wondering, I learned this from reading The Battle for Spain.
So that got me thinking - how would a similar tactic work in the UK? Would you get your suspected foreigner in a room, give him a steak and kidney pie, chips and a saveloy all drenched in curry sauce and tell him it's either that or a shower in unleaded petrol? Would spotted dick sales go through the roof? Maybe there'd be a run on chicken tikka masala and lager, or Hob Nobs and tea. Gangs could roam the streets ordering unsuspecting passers-by to down a bacon sarnie and a can of Tizer. Anyone who failed would be forced to eat a packet of pickled onion Monster Munch without flinching. I know, it's a bleak look at a possible future but it could happen.
SEPTEMBER 10
WHILE checking if the Penisarwaun graphic was still on last night's update, I came across this on the BBC website. It's certainly put my embarrassment at getting my top off in public in perspective.
SEPTEMBER 9
IS IT me, or is the person who chose the picture that accompanies this article just taking the piss?
SEPTEMBER 8
WAIT... they've increased the price of doing laundry? So I now have to shell out $1.25 for the privilege of taking other people's manky clothes out of the washers? And then pay another $1.25 to scrape fat lesbians' pubes out of the dryer filters? Oh wow - sign me up for that! And I'd love to know exactly what these "continually rising costs" are. Have they started paying the illegal immigrants who empty the cash boxes, or does the CEO want to upgrade his Ferrari collection? Perhaps if the repairs they do when machines break down lasted longer than a week they wouldn't have to spend so much on parts and labour.
At least someone felt the same way as me:
SEPTEMBER 5
VIRTUALLY everyone in the office got the following email today and, as I'm Welsh and Wales is mentioned, virtually everyone forwarded it to me.
FROM: mslollystevens2@hotmail.co.uk
TO: xxxxxxx@xxxxxxx.com
LETTER FROM LOLLY STEVENS
MAY I APOLOGISE FOR INTRUDING INTO YOUR PRIVACY. MY NAME IS LOLLY STEVENS A CITIZEN OF WALES PRESENTLY IN ENGLAND. MY FAMILY AND I ARE HAVING PROBLEMS GETTING OUR FAMILY FUNDS(TWENTY MILLION DOLLARS) OUT OF A SECURITY COMPANY IN HOLLAND, SINCE THE DEATH OF MY FATHER. WE NEED YOUR HELP TO ASSIST US AND YOU WILL HAVE A SHARE OF SEVEN MILLION DOLLARS , BUT SINCE WE HAVE NOT MET BEFORE, I DECIDED TO SEEK FOR YOUR PERMISSION BEFORE GIVING YOU THE DETAILS. IF YOU WILL BE SO KIND ENOUGH TO GRANT ME THE PERMISSION, I WILL BE GLAD TO GIVE YOU THE DETAILS.THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND I WILL BE WAITING FOR YOUR RESPONSE. PLEASE REPLY ME BACK AT mslollystevens2@hotmail.co.uk THANKS, LOLLY STEVENS
How could I fail to help a fellow Taff?
FROM: planetmut@gmail.com
TO: mslollystevens2@hotmail.co.uk
SUBJECT: Holland Proposal
Dear Lolly: This is indeed an interesting issue. I and my associates are interested in your proposal and would like to hear more. If you can provide a decent plan, I can provide the muscle - two Tonteg boyos, a Ponty bruiser and a Merthyr lad who's getting on a bit but can still do a Post Office when the mood takes him. If you need more I know a couple of right hard bastards from just over the border and I could even rope in a few Yanks. Feel free to get back to me with the details.
One of the boys is a bit on the suspicious side and would like you to prove you are indeed a fellow Welshman. When you send us more details, could you please enclose a photo of you holding a Welsh flag? You don't have to show your face - as long as you're holding Y Ddraig Goch that's good enough for us. We feel it's a bit cheeky asking you like this but you can't be too careful these days!
SEPTEMBER 3
THE best thing about this photo of my fifth birthday party is quite hard to discern. It's not that I (the one standing up) appear to have my jeans on backwards. Or that I still had that hairstyle aged 16. It's not that I only appear to have three friends or that I can only recall 50% of the people in this photo. It's doesn't have anything to do with the birthday cake, a home-made tribute to James Bond's Lotus Esprit from The Spy Who Loved Me. It isn't the fact that the mothership from Close Encounters appears to be landing in the back garden. It has nothing to do with the motley collection of drinking vessels that look like my mum bought them at a charity shop. Or the classic British party food of sausages on sticks and Wotsits which has the kid in the centre eating his own fingers in desperation. No, it's this:
This is a vintage Corgi BMC Mini Countryman. One of these recently went for $540 on eBay. Why didn't anyone tell me this shit was going to be worth money?
