miracle midget mechanics

while i'm on the subject of taking your car to get sorted, where is it exactly that garages get (and hide) their midgets. when you go in, everyone appears to be of fairly normal dimensions, but how come when you get your car back the seat it always so far forwards it could only have been being driven by a fun-size person. as far as i can see, there are a couple of possibilities. firstly, there could have been some kind of mass, wonkaesque expedition to a far off land where hoards of angry locals were rounded up to be shipped off to worship at the altar of kwikfit. alternatively it could be the principle cast members of snow white and the seven dwarfs getting work during the obviously difficult downtime between the middle of january and the beginning of december. i think i might test that theory by taking my car in sometime in december just to see. i suppose it could be also be jeanette krankie trying to make ends meet since television's passion for transvestite midgets waned somewhat in the late eighties, although she does seem to be good at finding work because she seems to work shifts at every bloody garage i go to if it is her. they really shouldn't keep whichever part of the vertically challenged community hidden away though. i can ony imagine they keep them locked in filing cabinets when needed, and that, to be honest, is just not on! 

i'm in love with my car

after a decidedly iffy friday the 13th, yesterday was a good day. for the first time in 7 off years of owning a car, i finally passed an mot first time around. for the last two years i've needed to shell out about £300 so a measly fifty odd was the stuff that dreams are made of. i always get a bit wary when it comes to problems with cars. the main issue being that i know very little about them apart from when it works and when it doesn't. which makes me a little vulnerable to the risk of getting ripped off. it always seems that the guys who work in garages are all about 17 and look exactly the kind of people we'd pick on me at school (and who probably still would today). excuse the sweeping generalisation. but you can also (or i can at least) imagine the whole thing descending into some kind of german twinky garage porn movie (based on the sketchy details and limited knowledge of such things i've acquired over the years). but, for better or worse, yesterday no such antics kicked off and the only buttons that got pushed where those needed to enter my pin, cough up the cash and drive off into the sunset! fingers crossed for next year.

so knives out | cook him up | squash his head

i've got a stupid big bandage thing on my left index finger. yesterday i intelligently managed to slide a chunk of it off with a scalpel. which unsurprisingly resulted in a fair bit of blood. and swearing. lots of swearing. and it still hurts like a bastard. changing the dressing this morning wasn't much fun. the cut'd attached itself pretty firmly to the dressing so there was reasonable amount of ripping required to seperate the two. which resulted in another fair bit of blood. and a little more swearing. i couldn't really bring myself to look at it too closely but it wasn't green or anything. i'm sure it'll eventually return to normal, but in the meantime i'm walking about looking like an extra from an episode of fingermouse entitled 'fingermouse goes to hospital'. which isn't a good look. and i bet you anything it'll glow like a bastard under uv lights if i'm out this weekend. 

mousey elliot in da house

apologies in advance for the copious amount of typos which will probably appear in the next few entries, for reasons which will be explained later. whatever - this i was meant to write about weeks ago but never got around to it. the other we, it was a friday night/saturday morning sorta time, we were in bed happily asleep when all of a sudden missy elliot starts playing really really loudly in the hall right outside lex's room. lex, seeing as it was his house and i didn't have a clue what the bejesus was goin on, leapt outta bed and went running out to see what was going on - only to be greeted by the site of a mousing dancing about in the hall (presumably getting funky to the music). when they saw each other, it seems that neither were all that impressed and alex shreiked like a bit of a girly girl and the mouse proceeded to dancing about around him, before running away from the screaming, flapping naked man stood before him. turns out that the cd has got stuck earlier in the day, and when mister mouse went wanding over the top of the stereo, he obviously knocked it free and got the party well and truely started.