MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE

As you can all imagine Mooncar and I have been spending our time with our family and friends. Just wanted to log-on and wish you all a Merry Christmas. Present opening and Christmas lunch is at our place. We're having a seafood banquet, roasts (ham and beef), hungarian potato bake, and all the Christmassy trimmings you could want. You're all welcome.

Best wishes to you and your loved ones.

Prize? Prize! Prize?!

Finally.

As the winner of the Inaugural GetFilms Competitive Competition for Curious Competitors Monkey was promised a Rocket ride. Well, here it is. It's spectacular. Thanks to editing. The actual experience was let's say... underwhelming. Barely enough to give Monkey a concussion. I told him to wear a helmet but he insisted that he had great faith in my engineering skills. Foolish ape. It does make for some entertaining viewing and, well, Monkeys resulting trip to the hospital provided us all with some wonderful post launch 'highs'.



There will be another rocket launch once I've sorted out a glitch in the Solid Fuel Delivery System, at the moment it doesn't mix all the solid fuel with the liquid fuel (Bi-Carb with Vinegar - It's high-tech stuff people!). I'm also modifying the rocket nozzle which will have one of three effects, 1. Gain a LOT more height; 2. Sit on the launch pad blowing vinegar out it's end with no lift-off; or 3. It will blow up. Personally, I hoping for one or three but two would be pretty entertaining too.

Anyway, Ticharu has put his hand up for the next passenger but I'm totally open to bribes :)

So much to post,

and so little time!

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Why is this time of the year so busy? I want to show you Monkey's rocket launch (I haven't even had time to email Monkey about his stupendous effort), I wanted to tell you about the Blue Screen/Special FX stuff, and there was some fun and funny stuff with the Birfday, not to mention the outstanding 3 Tests the Aussies played to regain the Ashes and humble the Poms (HUMBLED I say!).

*shakes head*

All in good time. Hopefully soon.

In the mean time enjoy, as I am, my fingers curled around the beautiful Carla Pott notebook that I recieved in the mail today.

It came before Xmas... damn... I will NOT give it away... no I WONT... I hope I DONT... OK, I might... damn, it came before Xmas...

WINNER!

When it comes to winning

A trip through the air

We all should have known

An ex-space Monkey would be there

I thought he was a dolt

But I was just being mean

His reasoning was sound

When he guessed a Blue Screen

Congratulations Monkey on winning the Inaugural GetFilms Competitive Competition for Curious Competitors!

Unfortunately while checking the rocket today I discovered it has a few engineering problems. Some of it's seams came apart sometime during the last few days. I'm sure it can be made air-worthy with some gaffer tape, much like any NASA project. I'll be in touch shortly to discuss the flight plan. In the mean time can I suggest you spend some time using the dryer as a centrifuge to re-acquaint yourself with the G-Forces of space flight.

I'll go more into detail about the actual contents of the box, booooox, box, the box... um, the Blue Screen soon.

The Inaugural GetFilms Competitive Competition for Curious Competitors

The video explains it all... **UPDATE: I now know what's in the box. None of you are even close, including Wendy (no packaging at all), so think non-xmas and film/theatre related. Go crazy - keep guessing. Once I convince Mooncar to look at my blog we'll decide a winner if no-one gets it. It'll take me a couple of days at least**



There is of course another, more tangible, prize on offer that I'll send to the winning blogger. If no-one actually guesses correctly then no-one wins the prize. I'm quite mean really, OK, I'm not, I'll give the prize to the guess a panel of experts, well, Mooncar and I, think was the best answer.

Oh, and just so you know, I'm not in the habit of buying toy rockets. It's entertainment for my niece and nephew over Christmas... and now us.

...and I've been completely neglect in my duty as a fellow blogger, mostly cause most of you animals would know anyway, go check out B-Hip's new movie if you haven't already. It's very funny.

PS. Butt-plug

Mary Poopins?

In order to fill in the space where a post containing something, anything, that I've produced or written should be... watch this.




Here's the Shining one that Monkey Monkey Monkey mentioned. that reminds me, I was shopping for presents last night and everytime Mooncar asked what I should get for someone I said, "Buy them a Monkey". It gets quite addictive after a while. Try it. OK, maybe that's just me.

Bad Sex Award

Ha! I was going to post the other Brian story, and I will, but this is too funny.

When I first encountered the Bad Sex Award, started by Rhoda Koenig (a literary critic) and Auberon Waugh (The Literary Review) 14 years ago to help stamp out redundant sex scenes in fiction, I thought 'how bad can it really be?'. It's bad, both the writing and the sex, but intensely funny if you have a mind like mine. A mind that is as mature and sophisticated as any pubescent teenager I know.

Anyway, here's a few excerpts from this years short-list...

Black Swan Green by David Mitchell (Sceptre)

If Dawn Madden's breasts were a pair of Danishes, Debby Crombie's got two Space Hoppers. Each armed with a gribbly nipple. Tom Yew kissed them in turn and his saliva glistened in the April sun. I know watching was wrong but I couldn't not. Tom Yew slipped off her red panties and stroked the cressy hair there.

'If you want me to stop, Madam Crombie, you have to say now.'

'Oooh, Master Yew,' she croodled, 'don't you dare.'

Tom Yew got on her and sort of jiggled there and she gasped like he was giving her a Chinese burn and wrapped her legs round him, froggily. Now he moved up and down, Man-from Atlantisly. His silver chain jiggled on his neck.

Now her grubby soles met like they were praying.

Now his skin was glazed in roast pork sweat.

Now she made a noise like a tortured Moomintroll.

Now Tom Yew's body jerkjerked judderily jackknifed and a noise like a ripping cable tore out of him. Once more, like he'd been booted in the balls.

Her fingernails'd sunk salmony welts into his arse.

Debby Crombie's mouth made a perfect O.


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Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs by Irvine Welsh (Cape)

It was uncomfortably hot in Mary's flat, but Skinner took a seat opposite the fat old woman. - Can you help me? He said earnestly.

- What's your problem?

He told her that he believed that he had put a spell on somebody. He wanted to know if this was possible, how he could have done this, and how it could be reversed.

- Oh aye, it's possible. Mary regarded him cannily. - I can help you, but I need payin first, son. Money's nae use tae me at ma age. Her eyes wrinkled. - You're a fine-lookin laddie, she said harshly. - A good cock, son, that's the payment I need!

Skinner looked at her, and shook his head ...

- Take oaf yir clathes then, let me see the goods, Mary rasped in lecherous cheer.

As Skinner undressed, the old woman removed her coat and began to struggle out of a series of cardigans, pinafores and vests. Lying on the bed, she looked smaller but still monstrous, wrinkled rolls of flab spilling over the mattress. Foul aromas rose from the putrefying pools of sweat and dead skin trapped within the folds of her flesh. - Thoat ye'd be bigger, Mary pouted as Skinner removed his Calvin Klein briefs.


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Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon (Jonathan Cape)

"Mouffette? She's a papillon ... a sort of French ladies' lapdog."

"A - You say," gears in his mind beginning to crank, " 'lap' - French ... lap-dog?"

Somehow gathering that Ruperta had trained her toy spaniel to provide intimate "French" caresses of the tongue for the pleasure of its mistress.

"Well! you two are ... pretty close then, I guess?"

"I wuv my ickle woofwoof, ess I doo!"

[...]

"Oboy, oboy." He stroked the diminutive spaniel for a while until, with no warning, she jumped off the couch and slowly went into the bedroom, looking back now and then over her shoulder. Reef followed, taking out his penis, breathing heavily through his mouth. "Here, Mouffie, nice big dog bone for you right here, lookit this, yeah, seen many of these lately? come on, smells good don't it, mmm, yum!" and so forth, Mouffette meantime angling her head, edging closer, sniffing with curiosity. "That's right, now, o-o-open up... good girl, good Mouffette now let's just put this - yaahhgghh!"

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It gets quite a bit worse for the ickle woofwoof so I'll leave it there. You can go here to see last years Winner(?) and other equally hilarious ways people have destroyed sex with their writing.

Don't get caught getting jerkjerked judderily jackknifed like a glazed pork over this post...