Mini-Blog™: 31/05/05

Morning all. Another Mini-Blog™ for you now, and with an equally thought-provoking topic: Diets. We all know about the Atkins diet, whereby eating no carbohydrates enables you to loose obscene amounts of weight within weeks, yes? Well, myself and Lord Warman, backed by scientific evidence, have managed to find a new and improved way to loose weight even whilst eating: The Morris-Warman diet. Now, how does it work?

Within your body, you have three main sources of energy. The first is taken from stored molecules of energy, known to scientists as Adenosine TriPhosphate or ATP, the second is from glucose and other bodily sugars which are stored around the body and the third is from the built up lipids (fats). Now, the difference between these stores of energy is how they can be broken down. And why tell you this irrelevant but altogether frankly fascinating piece of information? Well, hold onto your hats, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Also within your body, you have two main ways of breaking down substances for energy. These are aerobic and anaerobic respiration, requiring oxygen and no oxygen to function respectively. ATP is broken down anaerobically, as are fats, however glucose requires oxygen to break it down, as the Glucose itself is partly oxidised into ATP (for energy) and Lactic Acid, which needs to be broken down in turn and the oxygen debt it leaves needs to be repayed, each requiring even more energy than to simply break down the molecule in the first place.

And still, I seem to be talking utter crap, as per usual, but here we go with the clever conclusion-y bit: Supposing you could burn off your entire stored ATP stock at regular intervals during the day, say, before you were going to eat a meal? That would mean that any exercise you used afterwards (Chewing, Moving etc.) would be aerobic and require more energy to function. This use of more energy to function would mean that less glucose entering the body would be unused and be stored or deposited in arteries as fats. "But how long would burning off the entire ATP store take?" I hear you scream. Not long at all; most athletes have an ATP store that lasts for round about a minute, however you can assess when you are respiring anaerobically as you start to pant. As soon as you begin to pant, stop and begin to eat or drink; whichever. Alternatively, a few minutes of rapid exercise per day would also mean that your ATP levels were kept relatively low, meaning any physical processes undertaken were, at the least part, quasi-aerobic.

Have a think about it. 

New Gallery!

Yup, you may well have noticed the influx of new pictures onto the site. Well, by influx I refer to the 8 new images that have appeared to your right. (Oh, how apt.) These images are the products of the Gazi Media Corp.; a unique unit working to turn the entire world against the growing threat and plague of chavdom. Inspiration for several of the slogans can be attributed to myself and Lord Warman, however the artist wishes to remain anonymous.

Feedback and comments on the images as well as proposed slogans for further propaganda can be left in the form of comments under this notice.

Mini-Blog™: 30/05/05

With the recent dwindling numbers of Blogs™ appearing on this site (Both due to the lack of interest expressed by the readership and the lack of interesting things happening in my life at the moment, I have heralded a new era of Gaz’s Blog™-iness with the introduction of the Mini-Blog™; yes, a guaranteed daily dose of eccentricity from your favourite Blog™ journalist. Please note this does also no longer limit me to one per day, and so several may ensue over the course of days where individual thoughts occur (Or they may just appear in a Daily Blog™ at the end of the day. Whichever.) And the amount of Gazage™ per Mini-Blog™ will, by no means, be decreased.

Anyway, the purpose of this Mini-Blog™? To poke fun at the supposed European ‘Union’. Before I begin, I will inform you that France has said ‘Non’ to the idea of a European Constitution, which means that the entire idea has to be scrapped and started again. (Also, it means that the EU won’t face an embarrassing defeat when the referendum would have occurred in this country, as some 75% of the population would have given it the good-old two fingered salute.) But why am I making such a big deal about it? Because I have never liked the EU, nor do I ever think that I will (Being the Right wing Xenophobe that I am) and the very fact that France, one of the four founding nations of the then European Coal Community or ECC (The other three founding members being Spain, Germany, and Italy who had all marginally voted ‘yup’ in respective languages,) is now turning against it is just a sign of how crap it is in the first place. I’m also overjoyed that it means we can wait a little while longer before being threatened with a codified constitution again, as it is, according to Lord Norton, "The British constitutions ability to evolve that has allowed it to be so successful in the past." And so, a big "Ha-ha" to the ‘Yes’ lobbies, a massive "Bon Travail" to France and a traditional two fingered salute to the once-proud EU super state.

Daily Blog™: 26/05/05

Well, here’s me promising you more frequent Blogs™ whilst I was off on study leave, however in all the "revising" I’ve been doing I’ve been too busy to manage to find the time to tell my beloved and avid readers what’s been going on in the weird and wonderful world of Gaz. Not that there has been much going on, I just thought I’d fill you in on that little matter of state before I begin. But anyway, enough with this gay banter and onto the real stuff… On with the Blog™!

Today was the first of four epic exam days. (The sick twat that designed my exam timetable decided to put the remaining three on consecutive days, prompting me to declare war on the relevant exam boards.) French Listening, Reading and Writing all bowled into one rollicking three hour scribble-fest. Actually, it really wasn’t that bad overall: I had plenty of time to take my time during the exam itself and read the text thoroughly and repeatedly to try and find the right answers and still have time to sit and stare into space at the end of the exam for a good half hour or so.(For ’tis tradition.) Instead of boring you with a full and vivid account of my every action over the three hour period, I shall detail it in itinerary form.

5 minutes: Bugger about with the tape player to try and find the examination lady that manages to elude me come French Listening time.

2 minutes: Gain hearing back after realising the treble and volume are turned up to max. (The examining bodies must specifically hire high-bitched (Slipped.) so-and-so’s so as to get minimal shaking of the desk when the students realise the painful way that the sadistic examinee before them turned the volume up. 

50 minutes: Completing both the Listening and the Reading parts of the test.

3 minutes: Panicking as I realise I slipped and pressed the ‘record’ button half way through the tape.

20 minutes: Sitting and staring blankly at the clock at the front of the room.

5 minutes: Having a stare-out contest with the examiner. I won, as a matter of fact.

5 minutes: Rustling my papers for maximum ‘bored student’ effect. Before you get at me, it was the done thing.

10 minutes: Transfer to the Arts Theatre for the Writing section, stopping off for drinks and crisps along the way before me nearly throwing the bag of crisps at the invigilator when she informed me I couldn’t eat them inside the exam room.

45 seconds: Eating my crisps.

75 minutes: Writing four pages’ worth of twaddle on the media, multiculturalism and immigration, including no less than five variations on the word ‘multiculturelle‘, none of which were actually right, I now realise.

5 minutes: Staring blankly at the clock just for the hell of it.

10 minutes: Doing battle with my pre-release booklet which I chose not to use in the exam, with the goal of attempting to read the articles on "France in Europe." NB that 8 of these minutes included me fighting with it, as it seemed to knock something over every time I tried to open it.

Also, it has occurred to me during my stare-out contest with the fifty-something year old examiner that they all dress the same. For men, it is loosely accepted that they will wear some form of suit with a tie and possibly carry a briefcase. But with women, and with all the possible combinations of clothes they could wear, why must it always be a pleated shirt tucked into an absurdly long skirt with a neck tie arranged loosely around the neck like a noose gone wrong, all capped off with that ‘I-got-dressed-in-the-dark’ look blazer that doesn’t match anything they have on? Also, why must the hair also appear dead and windswept at the same time? Who knows… probably a prerequisite for becoming an examiner.

Finally, some news on a local legend. By local, I refer to the people of our household and by legend I actually mean some prat we take the rip out of on a regular occurrence. Yes, it is Baton Boy™. Sounding like a nasty sidekick, watch as he hurls a broom handle in the air, only to nearly blind himself in catching it, turn around and almost knocking his dear mother out who is innocently trying to pass with an armful of washing. Currently, he is scrabbling around on the floor attempting to pick the stick he is using as what one can only presume is a makeshift lightsabre. The plank.

And now, my summing up paragraph. As we near the end of the month I, too, near my goal of 5,000 views to the site. This fame is becoming more and more widespread, with referrals now coming from the Japanese google to some wild and, I dare say, wonderful attempts by some poor Korean to string together an English sentence. However, David Bowie, being the antichrist he is, has once more pipped Gaz’s Blog™ to the top of the google search list. He must be stopped, and so I now advise you all to go and influence www.google.com by searching for Gaz’s Blog™ and clicking on my link. Amateur. Also, it may be of note that I have updated the captions for the now somewhat ancient ‘random’ photo gallery. I do hope they are to your approval. If not, then screw you. And on that cheerful note, I shall bid you good day. Good Day.

Friday 13th Part II

In all seriousness, I could’ve saved myself some time and put ‘Friday 14th’ as the title, however that wouldn’t have been appropriate to the content, should you wish to know. Anyway, the reason for this part II? The very fact that MSN Spaces deleted my epic Friday 13th Blog™ and so now, just to annoy them, I shall post it once more in the hope that it stays on for a little while longer.  Please note this is being rewritten from memory and so I shall try my best not to skip over crucial focal points but also try not to add too much new information. Also, in other news, I’m now on study leave for my exams, and so I shall make a special effort to get at least a couple of blogs™ up during the course of the weeks, however I cannot promise every day. ("Though it would be nice," I hear you cry.)

Friday 13th

I woke with a start as the incessant bitching of the alarm clock seemed somewhat louder than usual (Only comparable to some sort of foghorn-cum-claxon going off in my left ear), invoking my now-involuntary response to reach over and smash it with my fist. You can imagine my surprise, then, as the clock suddenly turned carnivorous and devoured most of my lower arm. Somewhat baffled and injured, I sauntered my way downstairs, avoiding the three nests of black holes that had simultaneously appeared in the hall and the bottomless pit that was obstructing my passage into the kitchen. Having successfully Indiana Jones-ed through this precarious bunch of nasty things, I proceeded to battle with the cereal cupboard to hand over my daily quotidian of chocolaty goodness before weaving my way to the shower and fending off an onslaught from the bathroom utensils and shampoos (Which had come to their sense and formed the Sanitary Household Instruments Team – SHIT – and were currently in the process of staging a revolution to bring democracy to the bathroom.)

Having done battle in my house, all that remained to do was wind my way to school along the, for whatever reason, now flaming road. Ignoring the bunch of geriatric ninjas that were currently in the middle of a tea break and squabbling about what colour their group’s cups should be at the end of my drive, I made it to school relatively unscathed, save a nasty encounter with a irate twig. There, I proceeded to fail everything I set out to do and watch the entire common room turn unnatural shades of purple (Not that one naturally turns purple unless one is a Ribena berry,) and their heads contort into shapes the likes of which I have never seen before or since. After enduring seven bombing raids and fifteen grenade barrages on the common room by the Luxembourgian Mafia. (Who had, in a simultaneous piece of bad fortune, lost their leader and renowned French actor, Pierre Fragg, to a group of forty-something year old chickens who wished to make the point about the ever-decreasing price of poultry on the British market and had set up a base underneath the common room but, curiously enough, to the right of the location they were underneath on the floor below.) Deciding that I had had enough, I set off home, avoiding the sudden precipitate of Hippopotamuses in pink leotards and back to the small mauve sofa that had once been my house and was now the resting site for a dozen or so chronically fatigued geriatric ninjas and their friends, the gun wielding nuns of Aberystwyth.

*****

Hope you enjoyed it even more that the last attempt. And yes, I did ignore my own idea of not throwing anymore information in. So quiet. Another blog™ may follow during the course of the day; I’ve not decided yet.

Blogette™: 12/05/05

I know, I know, I’ve not Blogged™ for the past week, however I’ve been suffering with major post-traumatic stress disorder after Tony Blair won his ‘historic’ third term. (I don’t see what’s so historic about it, myself, as Thatcher won 3 terms, and Disraeli before her won 4 terms, albethey non-consecutive.) So, held for ransom with the prospect of 5 more years of Labour Government I have decided to move my political allegiances further right to counter the pseudo-capitalist majority (And idiotic, I might add) who voted [sic] Mr. Bliar in once more. However, with my rant out of the way in the form of a pathetic excuse-cum-attack on Labour, on with the Blog™!

Anyway, time for a little bit about my day. It started quite fantastically with me waking up, fighting with my alarm clock for around a minute whilst it continued to bleep in its traditional shrill, almost war-cry-like tone. Victorious, I fell to sleep once more to be woken up again ten minutes later by my darling mother. Not daring to try the same tactic on her, I conceded to getting up and dragging my sleepy body downstairs only to meet another able foe in the form of the Shreddies box. Stupid inanimate objects and their violent tendencies… Anywho, off to school I went to pass an incredibly objective day, finishing both the Civil Rights course in History and the creatively entitled ‘2596’ course in Politics, and filling me with both a sense of achievement in completing these syllabi, but also of dread as the presence of the exams is now looming on the horizon. Our history teacher, ever-prepared as she is, decided to give us a sheet describing what we should do the night before the exam to relax and achieve maximum results the next day. However, she also posed it with the statement ”I realise this may be like sucking on eggs for some of you." The following digression succeeded the statement:

Student #1: "Sucking on eggs? Why would you do that?"
Miss Holmes (For ’twas her name): "I mean it’d be obvious."
Student #2 (For ’twasn’t his): "But why would you suck on eggs?"
Student #3: "Maybe they didn’t like the taste…"
Student #2: "But still, why would they suck on eggs?"
Miss Holmes (For ’twas still her name, should you wish to know): "I don’t know… It just means it’s obvious…"
Student #2: "Because it’s normal to suck on eggs?"
Student #3: "They must’ve wanted the full taste sensation…"
Student #2: "But Eggs?"
Miss Holmes: "Shall we just read it?"
Student #3: "I don’t like eggs…"

(Should you wish to know, the students were Martin Kerry, Bergs and Myself respective of numerical order. Including the names in the discourse may have taken attention away from the words themselves.)

Anyway, another fantastic point that occurred during the course of the day was the news that I have been selected for the final 5 candidates for the 6th form male presidency. This means that, should I be elected, I will be in charge of organising things for the 6th form to do and bossing around visitors and people in the main school. Muaha. Mind, having polled enough votes from the open ballot with some 40 or so candidates, I stand in good running of reaching the Presidency, however its quite the achievement to have reached this stage so far, so I’m happy.

However, I now think I have far surpassed my 3 main paragraphs and so I shall wrap up with some news on how wide-spread Gaz’s Blog™ now is. Having taking back the No.1 spot on Google and thus a multitude of other search engines that utilise the google search technology, my ratings have been soaring. In fact, in checking my referrals today, I discovered links from the Italian and Portuguese Google search engines (www.google.it and www.google.pg) however neither was searching for Gaz’s Blog™ in particular. Fantastic. In fact, a lot of the referrals come about as the search for Porn, and most of them from www.baidu.com so would those prurient viewers please try this theory out. I’m aiming for 5,000 views by the end of the month, and, as the views currently sit around the 4,500 mark, I stand in good stead. Anywho, enough of statistics and back to the longing for the next blog™ for you. Toodleoo.

Daily Blog™: 05/05/05

Well, here I am again. I guess if I was an Elton John fanatic I’d quote from his not-all-that-bad song "I’m Still Standing." But, as it happens, I’m not, and so I won’t. But the point remains the same; that I’m here and ready to give my often controversial view once more on several things that don’t really concern anyone else but those involved or those mentioned in the process; otherwise know to the world as the Blogs™. And, In fantastic breaking news, Gaz’s Blog™ has won the popularity war against bowie.net for control of the top spot when searching for ‘Gaz’s Blog’ on google. Quite chuffed, this has inspired me to leave a little note for the second-best Mr. Bowie. I win. Bwahaha. (I would usually stick my tongue out in defiance at this point, but I’m not quite sure how to spell the noise, if any, that it makes, and so I’ll just leave it to your imagination that I have done. So there.)

But anyway, onto some more, slightly more upsetting news for my readers. Upon reading this, I’m sure that you will be questioning what could possibly be so bad to make it into the Blog™ but not quite sad enough to make it into the opening paragraph. Well, the fact is that by reading this, you now owe me the tidy sum of £10. (Don’t blame me; I didn’t come up with the rule. I’m not sure who did, mind, but it certainly wasn’t me.) Please send it by return of post to me at my house so you don’t feel the onset of guilt that will originate from not paying. Now, onto happier news, in that it is the General Election today. Yes, that time of year when those that can be bothered vote on a Prime Minister and Party to replace the current one which they have been moaning about for five years only to find they were in fact better off as they were and so complain even more for the ensuing five years. And, who should be tipped to win but [sic] Mr. Bliar himself with his policies of European Integration and everyone holding hands in a happy peaceful world. This is the primary reason that, should I be able to vote, I would vote Tory. I urge you all to do the same, before the country falls into the anarchic bureaucracy that is New Labour for yet another term. Wohoo. (Also please note that if Lib Dems win the election I will, in fact, leave the country. Just for the non-conformist viewers out there.)

Also, it is of note that the Frenchies that plagued our (Or my, depending on which way you want to look at it) land for the past week and a bit have now gone back to their respective bidets. The stay, though enjoyable on the whole, was tarnished by a few minor occurrences. By minor occurrence, I mean it on the same scale that the Second World War was a minor scuffle between joshing nations. These can be exemplified by three main events:

1. Manchester

A day of shopping that passed as quickly and smoothly as the hundred years’ war. (This actually lasted more than 100 years, funnily enough.) Whilst it was fun taking the French shopping, what wasn’t fun was the fact that they wanted to go in every single shop we passed both on the way there and on the way back. This proved problematic when we didn’t know quite which one they’d gone in to start with, and so we had to backtrack to ascertain their location. Combine this with almost strategically-planned dividing of their numbers across several shops and a correspondent with some sort of weakness for electrical shops and you’d be near enough there as to the audacity that one needed not to shout at the Frenchies. Just as a note: I had no idea how large Primark was until I lost the French in it. (I reckon I got lost as well, in keeping with tradition. I really couldn’t tell I was that busy trying to swim through the crowd of queuing middle-aged bargain hunters.) After six and a half hours of this, I was about ready to strangle someone. How convenient it was that the French were so close…

2. Karaoke

As a rule: never, ever, ever, let the French do Karaoke. They succeeded in making a bad song even worse and Nico and Nico (By God these French are creative with Children’s names…) became the somewhat estranged duo of Effeminate Spice and Downright-plain-disturbing Spice. Nothing more can be said without inducing karaoke-based traumas on my part.

3. Attitude

However much you try and stress it, the French are never rushed. They never hurry, rush, barge, speed or run. This is the conclusion that we Rosbifs came to after waiting 15 minutes for them to meet us in the Trafford Centre. (Surely Selfridges can’t be that hard to find? It’s in the middle.) No word of apology, no speeding up as they saw us to make it look like they’d been rushing – just a slow amble in our direction, popping off in several shops on the way. Meanwhile, our group of 5 is stood around like lemons getting funny looks off the security guards in Selfridges and the girls dressed as pink bunnies giving out leaflets (Mind, they were getting their fair share of funny looks as well.)

Well, time for a concluding paragraph, methinks. As a note, the 4,000th view mark has been smashed by almost 200 since the last Blog™ was posted, though I don’t think that 200 views are too bad to an un-updated site. (If such a word exists.) However, roll on view number 5,000, I say, and keep checking back, as Gaz’s Blog™ is now topping google.com and baidu.com and it’s only a matter of time before AOL, Yahoo and Ask Jeeves fall to this vocabularial prowess. Well, I guess that’s all I can say without sounding needlessly pompous, and so I shall bid thee a very fond farewell and even, I dare say, an Adieu.