Cassie: She wanted this post.

Cassie. What can I say?

Firstly, her name is Cassie.



C for awordthatryhymeswithblunt,

A for arse,

S for sexy,

S for so, as in 'not so sexy'

I as in "Incredibly silly hair"

E as in "Ello ello ello, what's all this then?"



Cassie is my pillow, and she is very comfy too.

I can't think of anything to write.



Enough about Cassie.

Although, I must say that one of her best attributes is her friend Fati, who now also wants a post about her.

Fati and I have known each other for roughly 200 years now, in which time we have had seven sons, seven daughters, and have founded our own south sea shipping empire. We have also started the pro-oreo, anti-romance club.



So, to sum it up:

Cassie has a room that is pink.

Fati doesn't live in Woking.



Thank you.



Ten minutes later: I haven't written enough. So here is some more about Cassie:

Just imagine sexyness personified, and you have Cassie, with her huge arse and boobs the size of breasts.

La di da.

Um.

Cassie cassie cassie cassie cassie cassie cassie.

Are you happy yet, hellion?

Is this enough for you to gorge yourself on the lifeblood of my blog?

You make me sick, you do.

Love ya', babes. Wink.



Weapon of assured zombie destruction: Tsunami

In memory of all the folks killed in the Tsunami...

Especially on the island of Phiphi.

Not just cos it has a name like mine (although that is a bonus) but it was where we visited when we went to Thailand on holiday.

I therefore feel deepy and am very saddened at every loss, particulary those on Phiphi.

Except for that bastard who charged me 250 baht for my hat, which I then saw for 150 baht down the road. Screw him.

Whoops.

Ah, screw it.



Today's method for killing the entire zombie apocalypse in one go: tsunami.





(Wow, my first really offensive post. No offense to anyone.)

(Except Cassie)

Thomas's dream.

It must have been a combination of watching Fargo, Jiggling, playing far too much Sims and alchohol before bedtime, but last night I had the world's most odd dream.

I'm scared.

The crux of the dream, the high concept if you will, what the core of the story is, what the rest of the dream revolved around was this. In the dream, I was pregnant.

PREGNANT? I'm bloody male. This is not physically possible. Actually, in the dream I asked this question to a dream doctor who magically appeared and he showed me a clipboard that had a list of people who had been born from men. When I asked him how they were going to get the baby out, he waved a scalpel in the air and left the room. (?)

I then wandered up and down a long set of stairs until I met a giant red alien octupus plant thing. This beast looked kinda squiddish, and was also obviously a cartoon. He (he spoke with a classically trained accent) told me that he wanted to adopt the baby. After a few minutes of pondering, I told him that if I met the guy who drew him, he could have the baby. Almost immediately, this artist fellow appears.

We then had dinner on a long mahogany dining table. I ate a piece of cucumber and a yellow thing.

Then I wandered the streets.



Then I woke up.

Isn't it amazing how dreams make sense when you are dreaming them?

Actually, no it's not. It's scary.



Anyway, what the hell was that dream about? I dread to wonder. Any ideas? I sure don't wanna think of anything.



Also on the dream front, it appears that someone else has been dreaming about me. You know who you are, babe.



Today's weapon for slaughtering the undead: A cheese grater. Messy and inefficient, but it sure is fun.

Big news.

Listen up everyone.

I am breathing deeply.

This is.

The best.

News.

Ever.

EVER.

THE CLOWN... IS DEAD!

I ROASTED HIM ALIVE!

HAHA, BURN IN HELL, YOU MORON!

I set fire to him next to the fireplace and he ran through the house screaming. Yes, screaming. I took a photo.

Unfortunately, the bastard set fire to my table and incinerated a cactus, but the fireman soon sorted that out.

I thought it was hilarious that the fireman extinguished the table before dousing the burning, screaming clown.

It shows where clowns lie in the grand scheme of things, really.



Today's Zombie Killification Means: A fire. Duh. If it can take out the world's most evil clown, it sure as hell can get rid of some shambling corpses.

You are locked in a dark room with only a rabbit, a spoon and a copy of the Bible. How do you escape?

I asked this to everyone. Answers are arranged in order of weirdness/amusingness.



Random Welsh girl with no imagination: You can't.



Richard: Burrow your way out using the spoon.



Cassandra: With the power of God.



Oli G: Kill the rabbit with the spoon. Offer as sacrifice and pray.



The beautiful angel that is Roxy: Rip up the bible and make the rabbit eat it, then squeeze it so it all shoots out and hits the wall and makes a hole. Dig your way through the wall with the spoon.



Bertie: Rip out a few pages from the Bible, and slide them under the door. Using the blunt end of the spoon, push the key through the keyhole, where it should fall onto the pages. Pull the pages back out, unlock the door and run. The rabbit is left unharmed.



Me: Kill the rabbit with the spoon and smear its blood on your neck. Bang on the door screaming "I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding," and wait for a guard to come in. When he does, use the rabbit as a water pistol and squeeze, sending a flow of blood into his face. When he recoils in disgust, bash him on the head with the bible. Swap clothes with him, and escape.



Random girl (her name is apparently Emily) : Bend the spoon with my mind, stroke the rabbit, and start a fire with the bible and my glasses so someone could come rescue me.



Fati: Knock the bible against the door and yell, "I'm not Christian, give me another book!" over and over and over again. When some sacrifice obsessed priest comes in leave the bunny in front of him and hide behind the door. When the priest enters the room tap him on the shoulder and shove the spoon up his nose when he turns round. Swirl it around a bit 'til you start feeling the spaghetti that is his brain (hes knocked out then) then grab the bunny and run.



Steph: Have sex with the rabbit (you might as well) and create enough friction between the spoon and the bible to burn my way out.



Gee: Okay, get the rabbit to read the bible, it gives him inspiration, then you put the spoon up his ass, and ride it as he crashes through, errm, a wall.





Today's weapon to kill a zombie: A spoon (as everyone thinks spoons are so bloody lethal)

Jigglers in the mist

Today, after lunch, instead of doing the usual revision or, you know, work, I decided instead to do a jigsaw puzzle. A 550 piece Simpson's Jigsaw Puzzle, to be precise. One featuring every Simpson's character ever invented. My accomplice? A little lad called Bertie. Oh yes, I also said that I wasn't going to look at the picture of the box. Or leave the room until the jigsaw was complete.

Us Jiggsaw puzzle doers (Jigglers for short) are a rare breed, half in love with death, living for the brief flash of inspiration that comes from a successful joining of two pieces. The circle of life lives on. Jigsawing is truly a beautiful pastime.

Or so I thought.

What was to follow would stretch me emotionally, physically end mentally, pushimg to to the edge of madness. If a documentary was ever made about my experience, it would probably be an 18. Here's a transcript (time is relative, after the first few hours I lost all track)



12: Thomas and Bertie happily start their Jigging. Thomas works on the large 'The Simpsons' sign, while Bertie starts in the bottom corner.

12.15: Thomas and Bertie start fighting over pieces of puzzle.

1: Thomas gives Bertie some pieces.

1.30: Both Jigglers are working on different parts of the puzzle, neither knowing what the other is doing. Nobody knows how anything fits into the puzzle.

2: Apathy sets in. No pieces are getting put in anywhere. Boredom strikes. Thomas has the genius idea of working from 'the feet up'.

2.03: Bertie loses interest and leaves. Thomas asks Bertie for a drink.

2.04: Bertie refuses. Thomas swears, and gets back to Jiggling.

2.05-3: Thomas steadily works, managing to put absolutely no pieces in whatsoever.

3-5: Thomas begins to despair. Puzzle-Blindness strikes. As does dehydration, hunger and a deathwish. Very few pieces get put in.

5.00: "If Tomorrow Never Comes" plays on the radio. Thomas starts to consider this a serious possibility.

5-6: Thomas slowly works on the puzzle, getting weaker and weaker. Meanwhile, Bertie plays on the Sims, goes upstairs, brakes his phone, and then plays on Metroid for a bit. He loses his temper and flings the controller across the room, then leaves.

6.30: One of the dogs throws up. Both Thomas and Bertie ignore them.

7: Bertie comes back and returns to jiggling, against Thomas's express wishes. Thomas is now paranoid and fiercly protective of the puzzle.

7.15: Parents return from Kingston. Bertie loses interest again and starts watching TV. What's on TV? The Simsons. At this point, Thomas hates the Simpsons with a vengeance. He fiercely repels attempts to help on the puzzle.

7.30: Finally, a breakthrough. Thomas manages to put in all the main picture.

7.35: Thomas realises that there's a fancy border around the outside of the main picture, thats totally repeating. He buries his head in his hands.

7.45: Thomas's mother joins in the puzzling. She shows him 'the proper way to do it' and claims that he knows nothing about puzzling.

7.46: Thomas considers strangling his mother.

7.50: Thomas's mother completes most of the border.

8: Thomas places the last piece in the puzzle. His ordeal over, he crawls upstairs.



I hate puzzling. On the other hand, it's infinitely more fun than the Sims. Now I'm off to kill that SODDING CLOWN.



Today's implement for the destruction of the undead: A jigsaw. Not the puzzle, the power tool. VROOOM.

Welcome to the twilight zone...

My post about correct spelling was proved totally correct. Everyone is a moron except me. Recently, I visited the blog of a dear chum of mine (hah), Mr B. I won't say his whole name because after I post this, he might get death threats.

I copied this off his site:



Terminal 2

sexified

i am finalli done wondering around tha terminal. i hav come to rest to look at u fools hu r still in miserable england.

actualli it started raining here BUT singapore rules and england is cold. this place is niiiiiiice an its jus a taste of wats 2 come :D

so iv now bin on a pc everywhere in tha 2 terminals im allowed to go, so as not 2 enter tha country or nethin stupid like tht. i hav an hour till my flight an im not quite sure wat im gna do. bt i havnt slept in over a day now an im strangely not tired. also iv onli jus eaten. iv had next 2 nothing compared with wat i normalli eat.

bye bye my dears

till nxt time



It gives me a headache just to read it.

Right, time to correct his spelling.



sexified - not a word - _

i - capital - I

finalli - not a word. How dificult is it to use a y instead of an i? THEY ARE TWO SPACES APART - finally

wondering - wrong word - wandering

tha - THEY ARE TWO LETTERS APART FROM EACH OTHER - the

hav - missing an e - have

u - missing two letters - you

hu - its not that hard, Joe, to type two extra letters - Who

r - missing two letters - are

england - needs a capital - England

actualli - was the computer missing a y button or something? - actually

singapore - needs a capital - Singapore

this - it's the first letter of the sentence, you need a capital there, dear - This

niiiiiiice - ok, I will let this one go, but really you only need one i - nice

its - surely, an apostraphe should be in there? - it's

jus - YOU MOVE YOUR INDEX FINGER LESS THAN THREE CENTIMETRES UP. ITS NOT THAT HARD TO TYPE T - just

wats - missing an h. Unless you were trying to spell the unit of power, in which case you missed out a t - whats/watts

2 - you accidentally mispelled 'two' as a number. Tut, tut - two

come - no full stop. How will people know that you've finished talking? Oh yeah, when the headache stops - come.

:D - What does that mean? Is it meant to be a cute smile? You make me sick. I have removed it - _

so - capital - So

iv - what does this mean? Oh, you mean I've - I've

bin - what, like dustbin? Rubbish bin? Or BEEN, spelt and pronounced totally differently - BEEN

nething - what is that meant to sound like? Because to me, it sounds like neh thing - anything

an - wrong word - and

gna - the sound of me grinding my teeth together - gonna

bt - as in the telecom company? - but

onli - sigh - only

normalli - look, Joe, baby, do you know that there's this special button on a keyboard, and if you press it, the letter Y is used instead of i? - normally

till - like a cash-drawer? - until

nxt - no vowel - next



ARGH. I feel strangely cleansed. And here is the abridged version:



Terminal 2

I am finally done wandering around the terminal. I have come to rest to look at you fools who are still in miserable England.

Actually, it started raining here, but Singapore rules, and England is cold. This place is nice and it's just a taste of what's to come.

So I've now been on a pc everywhere in the two terminals I'm allowed to go, so as not to enter the country or anything stupid like that. I have an hour until my flight and I'm not quite sure what I'm gonna do. But I haven't slept in over a day now and I'm strangely not tired. Also, I've only just eaten. I've had next to nothing compared with what I normally eat.

Bye Bye my dears.

Until next time.



Ok. Much better. I made that 112 changed characters. 112! I could write an essay about why America sucks with that. And, can I point out, I haven't even BEGUN to comment on the fact that not much of it makes sense.

But I feel to proceed any more would make me an uptight, pedantic loser.

Also, can I point out that any spelling errors in my posts are purely intentional. Just to keep you on your toes.

Ha, I totally reamed Joe there. Did you see?



The new Zombie killer: Joe's terrible grammar, in book form.

Sims update

I still hate this game.

Here is an update on Eggy's situation:



1: There are about 3 sets of bills on the table, each turning redder and redder. They add up to about $700 in total.

2: How much is there in Eggy's bank account? $121. And this is when he gets back from work. When he left, he had $1.

3: GOOD NEWS: EGGY HAS A GIRLFRIEND! Well, nearly. Pity she's named after my mum, but as soon as I earn enough money to buy her a gift, I feel that the deal, as they say, will be sealed.

4: I hired a maid to do my housework. Pretty good deal, actually. Except I don't have any money to pay her any more. She called me a deadbeat and stole my fire alarm. Why a fire alarm? I don't know. But now, if my stove catches fire (and Sod's law, it will), my house is probably going to burn to the ground, and Eggy will be consumed in the inferno.

5: The only good point of the fire scenario is that the clown will probably be roasted too. Yep, he's still there. Wanker.



AARGH.

I just spent an hour on this game, not having any fun. It's like being addicted to eating glass.



Today's Zombie Killing Device: Axe/Woodchipper combo

Wayawayawhhhhhhh....

(This was my impression of the soundtrack from the Good, the bad, and the ugly)

THE GOOD THE BAD AND THE UGLY WAS ON THE OTHER CHANNEL.

And it was on the good bit, the Mexican standoff.

Clint Eastwood is a dude. Do you know that 'Clint Eastwood' is an anagram of 'Old West Action'?

I reckon he could take out that Phantom any day.

Why don't we just set Phantom of the Opera in the Wild West? We could call it Phantom of the Saloon. I'm patenting this idea.



I'm listening to 'My lovely Horse' by The Divine Comedy. Its from Father Ted. I love Father Ted. Not literally, of course, as he's dead now and that would be illegal. But I love the show.

I was singing this song the other day while I was at the boat club. We have lots of boats there, from good (Eric Something, I can't remember the last name) to the bad... (ERNIE!). I realise this is a very elitist conversation, as nobody knows much about the boats in our boat club.

One our oldest boats is called Clint. Its old, beaten up, and run down. It doesn't move very fast, and it's not as good as it used to be.

Kind of like Eastwood, really.



TODAY'S Zombie death-dealer: Woodchipper. Well technically axe, but woodchipper to follow.

Yah. Fargo rules. Yah.

I love Fargo.

What. A. Film.

Coen Brothers? Check.

Steve Buscemi? Check.

William H. Macy? Check.

Gun muders? Check.

Axe murders? Check.

Woodchippers used for purposes other than chopping wood? You betcha, yah.

It's hard to describe how hilarious this film is. And violent. Violence is good.

And now its 1.45 AM, I'm typing on my blog and theres a girl on TV in a bikini!

Can life get any better than this?

I suspect it can, yes. Oh well.



TODAY'S Zombie death-dealer: Woodchipper. Well technically axe, but woodchipper to follow.

"There was too much singing," -- Bertie's opinion of Phantom of the Opera

Just went to the cinema to see PotO. Overall, pretty good.

Here is a list of the things that I disliked about this film:



1: Too much singing. I know it was a musical, but is it really neccesary to have the line "I'm going downstairs... do you want to coooooooome?" No. I don't think so.

I reckon I'll write a musical, in which people sing about walking down corridors, and scratching their noses. That would kick arse.

2: Too many candles. Did the Phantom really need that many candles in his lair? And then he'd spend all his time lighting them, leaving LITTLE time for evil plans. Therefore, the Phantom is defeated before he even begins. Plot hole number 1.

3: Did the Phantom really need to wear gloves all the time? Even when he was in a white shirt. I bet he wears those gloves even when he has a bath.

4: Why did the opera architects find it necessary to include a system of complicated tunnels AND a fiendish lair-looking place, complete with porcullis and pool of death? And, not to mention, Indiana Jones style death traps. This is PotO, not Indiana Jones and the Ghost of the Opera. Although...

5: They kept mentioning "The Sopranos", but there weren't any gangsters. Now I'm not a complainer, but when I'm promised gangsters, I want gangsters. Just throw in a few heavies in suits or something. Why did the Phantom hang his victim? He could have just driven him out into an abandoned field and shot him in the head. Much cooler, I THINK you'll agree.

6: Why THE HELL was there a horse down underneath the opera? How did it get down there? Did Mr Phantom ride it down there, or fly it there in his helicopter?

7: They apparently cast a duck in the role of Christine. I'm not joking. She looks like a duck.

8: Dubbing was awful. He was obviously not singing. Pah.

9: How did the Mask stay on the Phantom's head? It was made of bloody plaster. The only way it woulda worked was if the Phantom's face was very sticky. Plot hole number 2. There are loads of others.

10: Batman appeared in the film in the mask scene. Actually, this was a good point. Go Batman!

11: They included a load of pointless 'present day' scenes in lame black and white. You know why those scenes were never in the play? That's right. THEY WERE RUBBISH.

12: The guy who played the Phantom wasn't as good as Micheal Crawford.



And now here are my solutions to these problems:



1: Cut out a few songs, and replace them with Hip-Hop. Or the London Philamonic Orchestra's rendition of 'Smack My Bitch Up."

2: Replace the candles with neon lights and disco-balls. Alternatively, give the Phantom a flamethrower. Overall, I prefer my flamethrower plan.

3: Give the Phantom hooks for hands. Or alternatively, a hook for one hand and a chainsaw (á la Evil Dead 2) for the other. It gets rid of the glove problem.

4: Include Indiana Jones. Duh. Throw James Bond in there for good use. Batman's already there. Team the Phantom up with Frankenstein and a leprechaun and we have a musical extravaganza!

5: Oh yeah, and some gangsters too. Or just throw in a load of tommy-guns. Both are good. Man, my film rules.

6: Have a horse-racing track down underneath the stage. Or have a bunch of cowboys run through the theatre yelling 'hayah' and netting frightened theatre-goers. Yay!

7: If you're gonna cast a duck, why not go the whole way? Use all the farmyard animals! Cast a goose as Carlotta and a cow as the Phantom. Go crazy. It's my film.

8: Competely throw the dubbing off. Have them speaking japanese. It would be funny.

9: The Phantom takes off his mask and is revealed to be... the Pritt Stick Man! Was there ever a Pritt Stick Man? I don't care... there is now.

10: Nanananananananananana... BATMAN!

11: Take out the present day scenes. Replace them with tapdancing monkeys. Hee hee.

12: Put back Micheal Crawford. But I don't mean theatre singing Micheal Crawford. Oh, no. I mean Some Mother's Do 'ave Em, fully camp Micheal Crawford. Just imagine that. Hardey har.



Now I'm going to watch Fargo, to balance out my singing levels with some good healthy violence and Steve Buscemi. Hey, they should cast him as the phantom next time...



This moment's implement of zombie murderage: Singing. A lot of it. It nealy killed me, it'll sure kill them.

Man, I hate the Sims

I totally hate this game.

No, seriously.

I just played it for an hour, and spent most of the time screaming expetives at the screen. Most of them went like this:



"GO TO SLEEP, YOU BASTARD!"

"NO, DON'T WET YOURSELF!"

"POOF OFF, YOU POOFING CLOWN!"

(The word 'Poof' has replaced another expletive)



And this wasn't a good sort of screaming, like Mario Kart Multiplayer screaming. This was fury screaming.



Let's go through the average day of my nice little Sim, Eggy Cat. Don't ask about his name.



1: Eggy gets up at about 5 in the morning, exhausted and smelling of faeces. He takes half an hour getting up.

2: Eggy slowly walks towards the fridge. This takes about an hour.

3: Just as soon as he makes the food, his Car to work arrives and beeps on the horn. He very slowly leaves his meal and goes to the car. At this point Eggy is hungry, uncomfortable, tired, has no social life, and is about 3 seconds away from pissing himself.

4: Speed forward a long time. In this time, the house gets invaded by rats. Or bugs. I don't know what they are, but I hate them.

5: Eggy arrives home, and promply wets himself. I desperately try to get him to eat someting, but he's too depressed. I try to cheer him up, but he gets sad because he has no social life. I try to get him to phone up a girl, but she doesn't want to come round. Then he collapses in an exhausted pile. If I'm lucky, the sink won't break and flood the entire house.

6: Finally, I give up and try to get him to go to bed. He finally falls asleep.

7: Then the clown wakes him up. Did I mention that there's this random poofing clown that keeps wandering about the house? I don't know why, he just shows up. What does he do? I don't know. He just walks about, sobbing and doing bad tricks. In fact, his one contribution is that he wakes up Eggy every hour.

8: After waking up about 5 times, Eggy has to get up again, just as exhausted as he was before. He then goes to work again, where he is told his performance is poor, and he's not going to get promoted, so he's paid pittance. How do you improve performance? You keep him happy. What's a good way to do this? A good night's sleep. Why can't I do this? The clown. How do I get rid of the clown? Keep Eggy happy.

I HATE THAT CLOWN.



Remember, this is just with one fella. Last week, I started a family with 6 people. The entire think went to hell, everyone got depressed. Then the over caught fire and the mother burned to death.



Man, I hate that game. It's the entertainment equivalent of trying to walk through a hedge.



Today's NEW zombie killing weapon: The random backwards swastika boomerang, frisbee shuriken blade thing thrown by the sexy looking woman in the Sin City Trailer.

Walk down the right back alley in Sin City, and you can find anything.

Go and watch this trailer:

http://www.apple.com/trailers/miramax/sin_city.html

Now. Do it.

OK.

Now we will discuss why this trailer is cooler than a dead penguin.



1: The music. The entire trailer is worth it, just for the guitar orgasm when the car goes off the road and flips. Hot damn. The song is called Cells, by The Servant. I downloaded it and have so far played it... 21 times. Who could a resist a song featuring the line "... Like a rash on the back of a manky cat ..." ? Not me.

2: The black and white. Its film noir. Black and white = rebel cool. Or a lack of budget.

3: Bruce Willis. How good is it to see him get back to his ass kickin' days, instead of poncing about like a poofy psychologist? Sixth Sense was an M Night Shymamnanamamammamamalam film; of course he was gonna turn out to be dead. I don't think he shot anyone or blew anything up in that film. Pah. Boo!

4: The shot of the bright yellow blood. In fact, any of the bits with the cel shading. Except for the yellow guy, or the shot of Elijah Wood. We will reach them shortly.

5: The large amount of sexy looking women. Mmm. Oh yeah, and the men. If you're in to that sorta stuff.

6: The way that guy's nose at the beginning looks EXACTLY like the nose in the comic. It's almost like they had a prosphetic or something. Wink.

7: The cigarette lighter sound. The sounds of old cigarette lighters are only topped by the sounds of me cracking my knuckles.

8: That fella with the yellow skin. No idea why he has yellow skin, but hey.

9: That cool weapon that looked sorta like a swastika. In fact, that's my new zombie killing weapon.

10: Elijah Wood. Mostly 'cos you couldn't see his face. Apparently in the comic book he plays a psycho who rips off penises. I feel that he should gain inspiration from Lord of the Rings, where he ponced about for most of the time squeaking like a castrated pig on helium

11: The croaky voice of Nose man at the beginning.

12: The font of the title.

13: The total lack of cute looking kids, dogs, affection or any cutesy stuff.

14: The rain effect over the 'Coming Soon' at the end.

15: The looooooong close up of the lapdancer.

16: The silhouette of those two kissing. Groovesome.

17: The title. Sin City? That's more asskicking than a three legged man in a mirror thats full of asses.



Yeah, that's enough of that. Hot damn I'm going to see that film.



Today's NEW zombie killing weapon: The random backwards swastika boomerang, frisbee shuriken blade thing thrown by the sexy looking woman in the Sin City Trailer.

Hey, I just noticed...

There's an actual spellcheck. Which makes my point about spelling pretty redundant, really.

Wait a second. How come there are so many retards out there who spell like they're missing half the keys on their keyboard? Eh? What's that all about?

Pish.

I know I could have added that little reminder to my first post, but I just felt like adding a new one. You know, to get the ball rolling.



Today's weapon for killing a Zombie: Chainsaw

Well, I have bowed to public demand:

Yep, I have actually created a blog. It was a split second decision. I was in the shower, washing myself down, when I decided:

"I know, time for a blog."

Yep, thats it.

Ok, so now I've got one, what shall I do with it?

Here are the rules for my blog;



1: Most things are spelled korektlee. Unless I decide to do a comedy spelling, or just can't be bothered to look it up. Who am I kidding? I'll never be bothered to look it up. Ok, things will be spelled correctly if I already know how to spell that word. Hows that?

2: There will be paragraphs. Paragraphs are good. Plus, it makes things easier to read.

3: I'll update every day. Yeah, right, and there's a flying pig.

4: Proper grammar. Wait... that last sentence wasn't a sentence. There wasn't a verb. Well, that's one commandment that's broken. Bugger.

5: I rule. I just had to put that down. It's a ground rule here.

6: There will be very little swearing, drug or sex related talk on this blog. Hahahhahahahhaa.

7: I can't think of any more. Pish.





Today's weapon for killing a Zombie: Chainsaw