June 03, 2005

Tiny Tearaways

Is blatantly
the best programme on telly, as long as you don't hate kids. Which I don't. I love them actually, and bless me if they don't always get me all smiley and teary-eyed. I think I'm getting hormonal. But that's a whole other post - where's my diary...

It's that time of the month again, ie. the beginning, where I spreadeagle my current reading list all over this here post, and provide anyone who cares to look with some extra reading material for the next 10 minutes. Here, for you, because I care so much, is my May top ten new blogs:

Some big guns there. But there's always a reason why people have really popular websites; it's because they're usually bloody good at writing. And because they've been about for bloody ages. Compared to some of them I feel like a tourist, and I've been doing this for nine months give or take a week or two. Mrs L thoughtfully pointed out that right about now I should be giving birth to a little blog baby. What an incredibly worrying idea.

We went to lovely Mrs L's end-of-year show a couple of days ago, and realised why it's a really good thing that end-of-year shows only happen at the end of the year and not, say, at the end of every week. Once a year is a quite ample frequency. The work was very good, especially hers, but the sheer number of ponces that crawl out from under their highly buffed and glass-walled Conrad store decked out stones is simply staggering. Never have so many people spent so much time acting aloof and as if they're having a great time and having a rubbish time while not actually having any kind of time at all. I was in a bad mood after ten minutes, wanted to leave after twenty minutes, felt like an old man after thirty minutes, and was right about to punch someone after forty minutes. And I'd had a good day up to then. After doing the usual after show pub thing, which was where my mood grew to a fiery head, we adjourned to a quite pub with no ponces in it, and preceded to talk about seriously interesting things until we were seriously drunk and it was seriously closing time. Then we went home and argued.

But everything was alright in the morning, and that's the way it should be.
And all of Mrs L's work is brilliant and I'm so proud of her. Apparently she's got 'untapped creative potential'. I disagree. From where I'm looking it seems thoroughly tapped, so whoever said that is a berk.

The best compliment I can pay is to put some of her stuff on here, so that's what I'm going to do now.

The first is a page from a website for sushi - the lilies open up when you rollover them and deliver useful snippets of information. The second is a still from a video promo set to Radiohead's 'Idioteque'. And for anyone with a good memory, I am the eskimo (although I don't look like a drawing in real life). The third is a page from another website, one which is actually going to be published on the web. I'll link to it once it's up and running. And the fourth is a painting of a Hairy Angler. It was for a kiosk-type project, whatever that is, but I like it because it's a great painting, and because it's a Hairy Angler. Hairy Angler, Hairy Angler.

They're all bloody fantastic, and are just the tip of the iceberg. Watch Mrs L go!

And watch me and Watski go too! Big Blogger 2005 storms the blogworld... And is great fun - if only all blogging was this much fun. And if only we were getting paid for it. Surely we can make some hard cash off of this.


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