Blogging, Wife, football, work, Wimbledon, Big Brother, and whatever else has sprung to mind at this ungodly hour

It's been a while, I think, since I did a post with any meat on it, and for that I apologize. Not only to those people who come here regularly, but also to myself for being so naughty. Furthermore, to compound my guilt, Wife has just said to me: "You've become a bit sparing in your use of images on your posts recently." Insult to injury or what?!

So here I will try to make up for it, to some extent.

First, taking my lead from one of Baw Bag's most recent posts, I'd like to put this in. Okay, anyone who has been to Bawbags and seen his post will possibly have read this comment from me, but feeling as dry as a nun's chuff when it somes to inspiration at the moment, I thought it bore repeating. If it doesn't, then, oh I don't know, sue me.*

I had to miss the Brazil v Ghana match the other day due to work commitments, but when I got home Wife asked did I want to know who won. "Ghana?" I offered hopefully, for who doesn't want to see the mighty fall? "Yes!" she exclaimed, surprised that I'd guessed correctly. "Really?!" I semi-shrieked (but in a manly way, of course). "No," she said. I thought it was a bit mean getting my hopes up like that...

See, Wife can be cruel. But the funny thing about Wife - and this is really a terrible segue - is that she doesn't mind knowing about the end of stuff. You know, how a movie ends, or a 23-part TV show like Prison Break, or a book, or a game show like Survivor. (I'll talk more about Survivor later.) And I hate knowing. I wish I didn't, but I'm like a kid, and I love to be surprised. That's not to say I enjoy walking down a dark and deserted street and have someone pop up from behind a wall and say "Boo". No, I don't appreciate that sort of surprise. I mean I like the [whatever it is] to reveal itself to me at its intended pace. Not Wife, no. We watch a fair amount of what I call the good shows from America. We don't watch Oprah or Cops, but we watch The Apprentice, Survivor, Third Watch, that sort of thing. She - I kid you not - will look up online the endings of any series we are currently watching before we fly - just in case we die. She needs to know how they end just in case we die. And yet she's also quite the optimist in many other areas of her life.

Another reason for the slimness of posts lately is that since coming back from my holiday I haven't had the time to do much other than work. And once work is done [actually this isn't true. I should say "While working"] I start looking at my Daily Read blogs. Then a bit later I might start thinking about my daily post. Now this is a change to my old habits. I used to blog before looking at anyone else's blogs, and I think I have to go back to those old ways. The problem with looking at people's blogs first is that you then feel like you've stolen their ideas if they happen to have posted on something you were considering. This morning, for example, I woke up thinking that I'd post about how happy I am that Tiger Cunting Tim is out of Wimbledon already. I fucking hate him. Words cannot express how much of a fucking tosser I think he is. He is quite possibly the worst sportsman ever to have come out of England, with the possible (but by no means definite) exception of Eddie "The Eagle" Edwards. Tim: fuck off. I'd call him a has-been, but he's more of a never-was. Fucking shower of shit. So I can't blog about how much I hate Tim cos Ranting Dullard beat me to it. So I left a comment instead.

Are you getting something of a picture yet that this post is made up of embellishments from my morning's comments? Well, this is where it ends and I move on to pastures new.

I've been a bit unable to concentrate on long posts of late. Both my own and those of others. I've been unable to create them and unable to read them. I think I'm over that now. It seems that way, doesn't it, given how this one is rambling on?

So, Survivor. Before I continue, I must ask: Please no spoilers. I think it's over in the US, but we are way behind. The thing is, you see, Survivor is not shown in the UK. We get our fix from our buddies in Australia. They record it and mail it to us. They've been doing this since they returned to Oz about three years ago. Before that, when they lived in London, they had tapes mailed to them by family members and we'd have Survivor evenings with a curry and some beer. I have no idea why they don't show it in the UK. Actually, yes, I do have an idea. Some bright fucking spark at ITV (that's a commercial UK network TV station) decided that we could make our own British Survivor. So they did. And, like all re-do's of other nations' shows, it stunk. It was fucking miserable and turgid and terrible in so many ways. You see, they messed with the formula and got it wrong. And the viewers didn't like it, so it was never recommissioned. I guess someone somewhere said, "Oh, UK audiences don't like Survivor". No, you cunt, we don't like shitty faux Survivor, but we do like the real thing.

Anyway, we have a tape of Survivor sitting waiting for us. And we also have two films sitting waiting for us. And we're not getting round to any of it. And it's not just because of work. The World Cup is on and often compelling. But it's not just work and the World Cup. I am (almost) ashamed to say I've developed something of an addiction to Big Brother. This is the first time in quite some years that this has happened. Wife thinks I'm in love with Aisleyne (pictured here). Really I'm not. I think she's nice (ebonics notwithstanding) and I think she's "keeping it real", unlike many of the other housemates, but I don't love her or even fancy her. And - is this terribly snobbish? - she's just too stupid to be interesting to me. Is "stupid" too harsh? Dumb, then. Evidence can be found here.

So, the reasons again for my lack of meaty posts: Work. World Cup. Big Brother. But I'm going to make a concerted effort to get back on track.


* Please don't sue me. I don't have much in terms of money and possessions, and I can't afford to lose what I do have in a frivolous and unnecessary court case. Instead of suing me, perhaps you could just leave a comment saying something like: "Y'know, * (asterisk), that really didn't bear repeating." Thanks.