“Tom himself is a 400 lb, East Bolivian, overblown arsehole with delusions of grandeur, and a very strange fascination with hairless Mexican wrestlers.
Of course Tom doesn’t read the path of thornes, so we’re not worried.” [Oh yeah?]
Leia Scofield’s 30 DVDs in 30 Days project reaches day 28 with Antitrust and mentions the plasticbag.org Antitrust subVERT project.
So the question of the moment really is: “Am I GOING OUT WITH PAUL DIGITALTRICKERY or NOT?“. I think I might submit my picture. I’d quite like to know whether I am or not. You never know. I might be.
Search engine request of the day: So today someone typed in “My friend is being a bitch” into Google and the first thing they came across was my site. In fact this old page.
Help encourage people to not come to plasticbag.org by including one of these buttons on your site today. And make sure they don’t link back to this site, because that will rather defeat the whole purpose of the exercise. Note: This is not a double-bluff. [Ha ha]
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Correction: Due to horror of person mentioned in weblog discovering said weblog and then reading said weblog, the owner of said weblog now has to cover his tracks in a charming and engaging way by slagging him off – much like a four-year-old in the playground who feels awkward around girls. So I’d just like to say to the person concerned that they stink and that there is absolutely no way on earth that I’d ask them out for a drink sometime next week. Particularly not Wednesday. Ok? Got that? [This is not my fault]
Excellent. Absolutely no one reads this site any more. I have finally proved my theory that being a self-indulgent grumpy arsehole is not what the public want – whatever the lying, scheming, sack-of-shit bastards would try and make you believe. I’m going to make a button.
Search Engine Placement Strategy: National Lottery, Maff, Foor and Mouth, Exchange rates, Eminem, Inland Revenue, SMS, text messaging, EastEnders, West Ham, PlayStation Cheats, Westlife, Alton Towers, Harry Potter, Arsenal FC, South West Trains, UCAS, Eurovision, Buffy, Revision, London Eye, Route planner. [Prurient content omitted | 20 most popular terms typed into MSN.co.uk | As featured in The Guardian’s ‘Editor’ supplement]
I hereby proclaim Escape, at the end of Rupert Street, to be my London bar of choice. It’s small, relatively free of attitude and full of pleasant-looking, relatively nice young men and women. I’ve been going for a while now – it’s not got the horrible desperate need of Rupert Street (the bar), nor is it as tacky as many of the cheesy gay places of Soho.
Anyway – I’ve been going for a while now semi-regularly. It’s actually a laugh, which is cool. And I’ve just started meeting people there as well. Which is, you know, also good. I went on Thursday with Nick H and his friend Scott, and it accidentally turned out to be the Miss Kudos Drag Queen competition. A more motley crew of drag-acts you wouldn’t believe. One of them had breast implants, no top and Marilyn Manson contact lenses in. One mimed (quite well) to Geri Halliwell.
I went last night as well – it was supposed to be a preamble to going clubbing, but I was exhausted from having been up all night writing reviews for the BBC. So by about midnight I wanted everyone around me dead. Which is a pity really, because there was a charming guy there called Will, [COMPLIMENTS EXCISED JUST IN CASE HE HASN’T READ THIS YET].