Kinder X

If there's one form of chocolate that I take particular delight in, it's Kinder Surprise. You know, the chocolate egg with the toy in it? Yeeah. Everyone loves Kinder eggs, as they shall hereby be referred to as. Not only is one's chocolate craving satisfied by the delicious combination of white and milk chocolate, there's the toy.

Once I've devoured my chocolate, I love cracking open that little plastic case thing inside and seeing what little bits of plastic require putting together. Recently, I've noticed that these bits get less and less and plastic figurines, pre-built or almost complete have started to appear. Not only is this a travesty as there is nothing that I enjoy more when stoned than the challenge of building a plastic racecar, I have also noticed a disturbing new theme to these toys.

It seems that those cunning employees at Kinder are finding ways to have a bit of subversive fun with the kinder toys. Tired of racecars, chicken with flapping wings and so forth, these poor souls (who probably thought their degreee from an art school would pay far more dividends than designing plastic crap for unappreciative kids, are probably grinning into their coffee. I first noticed with a rather dubious mariachi guitar player, who when run along a surface would jiggle his arm supposedly to look like he was playing his little plastic guitar. In reality, it looked like he was having a whole different kind of fun, if you get my drift. I have since lost the little mexican but last week, I got a whole new obscene kinder surprise.

Having munched through my chocolate and cracked open the plastic inside, I was greeted with the sight of a very bug-eyed pre-built figurine of a pirate snail (I know). At first, I tossed it aside, thinking it didn't do anything. It wasn't until much (well ok, an hour) later when I was considerably drunk that I picked up the toy again and ran it along the table top.

I was shocked. As my pirate snail wobbled along the table, his eyes began to pulse in and out, his head expanded and contracted again and honest to God, he was gurning. I couldn't believe it, pirate snail had clearly munched his way through a bag of ecstasy. Unfortunately, I can't figure out a way to video the movement as the figure is so small, so below are a series of close-ups of the one I have dubbed 'Kinder X'.

The 100th post

So, not only is the 100th post, it's also the POST OF FREEDOM! This morning, when I woke up, I was no longer a slave to forced knowledge. I cast off the shackles of higher education and instead, crossed my fingers and began the ritual of praying for the best. My final essay went in after much confusion to do with title forms and then the afternoon saw the final exam I will ever sit. Although, I haven't really sat that many while at Uni, it seems to be a bit hit and miss.

So. Guess that's it. I'm no longer a student. I have no more studies to be interrupted. But until the end of June when the fruits of our labours are graded, re-graded and classified and in the eyes of the NUS discount, I shall at least remain in part a slave to the institution at which I have spent the last three years supposedly toiling. Which in a way, I suppose I have. I have perfected the art of the lie in, collected several big library fines, learned to cope with whole new types of mould and acquired minor skills in electrianism and plumbing and a new appreciation of dishwashers amongst other things.

Today, I have also gained a new appreciation for the simpler forms of technology. Since getting my last new phone about this time last year, I had various issues with its lack of delivery of messages, crazy flipping display and lack of technology. So, last week when my upgrade date rolled round, I called up my provider to see what they could do. The results was that I ordered what seemed like the very spiffy Nokia N70. It finally arrived amongst much rejoicing on my part and admittedly, a little bit of over-enthusiastic package tearing.

Ooooh I thought as I held the lovely chrome phone with massive display in my hands. Niiice. But then my eyes drifted down. Yes, the screen may be big but the keys are absolutely miniscule. Now, I've had phones with small keys before but a 4 year old would have issues with these. If I were male and in possession of larger digits, I would be even more displeased. At least I have nails to poke with.

I also think it has too many buttons. Way too many. I keep on accidentally knocking all of the tiny ones on the side and being whizzed off to some random menus. Suddenly, I find myself drawn back to my old dodgy flip phone but I shall persist and give the N70 time. Perhaps it'll grow on me.

What Antonia needs

So, my friend Carl posted a thing about the Google thing where you type your name followed by needs (eg John needs) into the search engine and see what comes up. So I got curious and typed in Antonia needs to see what came up. The first link took me to this, which basically sums it up.

However, as you may've noticed, the above link takes you to antoniabance.org.uk. This may sound narcissistic to some but I always find it really weird to come across or meet another Antonia. I suppose it's because its not a very popular name like others such as Charlotte or Tom, etc. So there's always this slight fascination when I meet another Antonia, it's almost like they've stolen your name or something.

Anyway, I am waffling mercilessly, it's probably the heady mix of excitement and dread that tomorrow has brought onto my shoulders.

Final exam. gulp.

It's over! (Well, almost)

Dissertation Run 06, originally uploaded by spiltink.

Monday finally came and went, in a very drunken blur. I probably should've eaten some breakfast before getting stuck into trips to the bar. As you can see from the picture of my friend Holly* and I above (taken in the time old hold-camera-aloft-and-smile fashion). Not only are we drunk, we're also decidedly windswept. Having mocked us all with sunny weather last week, the day dawned very windy, overcast and generally blah. And yes, it did rain later.

Bastards.

The great British weather didn't deter the runners though and there were lots of comedy moments of people streaking through the gathering crowds or doing the final run in fancy dress, which in our collected drunkeness, the crowd roared their approval of.

It's very strange to think that the dissertations are done and gone; However, its not all over quite yet. There's still the small matter of that exam and the 3000 words that the english department feels it is due. It's with heavy heart that I return to my laptop and books after the brief taste of freedom that Monday (and the subsequent Tuesday recovery day) afforded me. Until then, I hold on with the knowledge that it'll all be over next Monday.

NB: * - you may remember Holly from our adventures over at the The Oz Blog, our adventure through the South Pacific's dossing trail.

Playing with Utensils

Ladies and Gents, you may want to stick a fork in me because I. Am. Done. Well, almost. There's still a small matter of another 3000 word essay and an exam but in my eyes, the bulk of it is now over.

Both dissertations sit printed and bound, with all of their title sheets and so on attached. I feel I can once again reclaim my social life and the right to get drunk the second those get handed in tomorrow and believe me, drunk I will get. But right now, I am beyond exhausted and my bed looks far too good. This week has pushed all of my previous boundaries in terms of hours spent tapping at a keyboard, it's also tested the theory of how long it's possible to go without a shower and exactly what time the sun rises in May. This probably makes no sense.

But it's over. Yeay.

HMWJC? - How Much Would Jesus Charge?

So, we've all read about the stories of people selling their kidneys, virginity and souls on ebay, but surfing around on ebay today, I came acorss some fruit loop who has gone one better.

Buy Jesus!

Well, not quite. Apparently, some time in 1984 in a small town, a tall, handsome and 'golden' Jesus visited our religious entrepeneur and bestowed upon him the answers to all of life's most vital questions- you can buy the cure for cancer, the location of heaven and the solution for world peace for the startingly price of only £7000.

Bargain.

Publicity Trainwreck

I've broken off briefly from my day of analysing cross dressing comedies, there is only so much Robin Williams one person can take in a day. So, continuing on yesterday's theme of slating Tom Cruise, lets discuss those eager beaver Scientologists who want to see The Cruiser elevated to a God-like status.

First it was keeping Dianetics in the bestseller lists, then last month we all heard the story about Parada magazine's Tom Cruise poll being rigged, right? Well, according to dear ole perez, the trend continues, extending to MI:3 ticket sales. Scientologists really aren't doing anything to endear themselves to the general public, are they?

I'd like to take a minute to point out that I didn't always laugh at Tom Cruise. There was a time when I could almost be convinced. Of course, I am no longer 12 years old, and Pat Kingsley is no longer TC's publicist. But maybe its too late, not even the new publicists he's hired can fix the horrible PR disaster that he has single handedly managed to get himself into.

They say there's no such thing as bad publicity but in this case, I gotta disagree.

Flying visit

Right, so I planned to blog yesterday since I haven't in a while but then I fell asleep mid-afternoon and by the time I woke up, I'd forgotten everything. I tried again but got distracted, wandered off and basically, yeah, I couldn't be arsed. But since it's saturday morning and I'm still waiting for the sleep-hangover to clear from my foggy brain, so I figured I'd come and talk gibberish on here. Rather than talk in detail, how about some short things going on? Yes, I can cope with that...

BOYCOTT TOMKAT

Yes, it seems that the publicity trainwreck that is TomKat has finally lost all credibility and the people want Cruise outta H'wood faster than you can say 'contract relationship'. And what the people want, they get! Personally, I can think of nothing worse than carrying on bankrolling this fruit loop. At least when I went to see War of the Worlds (yes, I admit it- although it was Spielberg), it was free because the projector for the film we WANTED to see was broken. Did anyone see that programme on Channel 5 about them last night? Aah, trashy TV.


THE NEW POPWORLD
...is poo. Come back Simon and Miquita, all is forgiven! Yes, even you Miquita, although Simon has nothing to apologise for, other than making me spray tea over the floor from laughing too hard once. Alexa Chung may look pretty but where's the irreverance?! The comic timing? Note to model: pensioner gag from the Ordinary Boys shoot? Not funny. Back to the catwalk with you, young lady.

So, we've had the bitching about entertainment, lets move onto something more controversial than Saturday morning telly, Politics.

SO MUCH FOR THE TRAM?
I don't really care much for politics, I'll be honest, although I do get the odd rage once in a while. My main source of rage is usually primarily directed at the Mayor of London, Ken Livingstone. I have never had such a dislike of one man, what with congestion charging, traffic light fixing, bendy buses and so forth. But the pinnacle of his idiocy seemed to be in his insistance that a tram in west london would be the solution to all of our traffic problems. It would not be. It would divert traffic onto even narrower residential roads than the Uxbridge Road, would require beautiful old buildings, trees and local businesses to be demolished- the list is endless so I'll stop now. Anyway, the majority of boroughs that are affected have been held by Labour for a LONG time. Not anymore. So Ken, kiss your tram goodbye.

Right. Enough. This has been WAY more than a flying visit. There is work to be done.