DESK, Huw Federation: While doing some Physics homework this afternoon, the entire population of the Huw Federation simultaneously pulled a face, pouted and went `WTF?'
The Government has moved to contain the confusion. A major public education campaign was announced, utilising television, radio, leaflets and public billboards. The main message of this campaign is summarised by the catch-phrase `Ask Vilas', sung by a range of dancing marmots and set to silly music.
The confusion has also been experienced in other nations. The Wilsonese Government has declared that the Wilson Emporium is in an official state of perplexity.
More news when the little hand reaches the ten.
Well, for a start, I'm not a doctor, nor do I have a Ph. D in Lovery, so what possessed one `50 Steelix' to email me asking for love advice is beyond me.
Nevertheless, I will attempt to answer his problem. To help me, I will simplify it by breaking it down into smaller, bite size problems that are easy to deal with.
On 28 October 2005, at 21:47, Steelix wrote:
Dear Dr. Huw,
I am in love with this girl. I think she is in love with me. I am fairly
certain. But I cannot contact her, and keep thinking of her.
Well, I have no idea what to say to this. Is it even a question? Is it even a statement? Is it even a sentence? Is it even English? Well, it is the least three, but not a question. But I will still attempt to answer it. After much consideration, I have decided that the answer is `aubergine'.
On 28 October 2005, at 21:47, Steelix continues:
Should I pop a cap in her ass?
Gross. Shut up.
On 28 Oct 2005, at 21:47, Steelix continues:
Will that stop me thinking of her?
Possibly. I'd recommend getting one of them aneurisms I keep hearing about. I hear they are very valuable. How often do you hear people say things like:
`Dude! Did you hear about Auntie Mavis? She had an aneurism!'
`Dude! No way!'
`Way!'
On 28 October 2005, at 21:47, Steelix continues:
I also know her mother. Her mother may remind me of her. Should I pop a cap
in her mother's ass also?
I dunno. I'm not sure if having `it' two people from the same family is counted. I'd do what I said before about popping caps in asses. To save your eyes, I have repeated what I said before in this handy little quote: "Gross. Shut up."
On 28 October 2005, at 21:47, Steelix continues:
Regards,
50 Steelix
Regards,
The Very Reverend Admiral Huw Rowlands, 3rd Viscount, RN, KB
DESK, Huw Federation: The Prime Minister missed question time in the Lower House today, complaining of an `upset tummy'. The PM was to be found in the foyer of the House of Parliament lying on a couch, clutching his tummy and groaning softly to himself.
`Awww... get away from me,' he said, startling a group of Journalists. `I drank my iced coffee too fast!'
Apparently, the Prime Minister had bought an iced coffee after lunch to wash down his ham sandwich. According to internal sources, the sandwich had been in the fridge for at least a week and may be the cause of the upset tummy. Nevertheless, the Government has not moved from its stance that it was the iced coffee that gave the Prime Minister his upset tummy.
`He drank that thing in, like, 2 seconds flat, dude' said Minister for Legislative Procrastination, Mrs Matthews.
The café in question, Joe's Avocation Coffee has since raised the prices of the iced coffees in question and has re-marketed them as `the iced coffee that killed the PM'. However, this is widely believed by market analysts to be false advertising, as the Prime Minister isn't actually dead.
`Reuugggghhhhh!' said the Prime Minister.
DESK, Huw Federation: The Prime Minister ate a nice piece of chocolate cake today at lunch, but didn't share it with his friends in Cabinet. The cake was a layered chocolate mud cake made by the Prime Minister's mother last week.
According to the Minister for Multicultural Affairs, the Prime Minister is a meanie who doesn't ever share his lunch, but takes everyone else's all the time.
"I don't want his stinky lunch anyway!" said the Minister for Education. "He drank it with lemon cordial, and that only means one thing: mummy's boy!"
International reaction to the issue has been mixed. The Grand Poohbah of the Mark Confederacy has reported seeing the Prime Minister crying behind the bike racks last week. However, rumours of the Prime Minister being a cry-baby have not been verified.
DESK, Huw Federation: Parliament set a record today in passing a law against Morris dancing in twenty seconds flat. As soon as the bill was passed, a collection of dancers practising in front of the House of Parliament were arrested and sent to gaol without supper.
Morris dancing has a high impact on people's violent sides, according to the International Red Ex in a report released on Tuesday, 18 October 2005.
"Morris Dancing has been directly linked to high blood pressure, increased stress and tendency to perform acts of extreme yuck," read the report.
"It's also plain stupid," said Minister for Health, Jon Barries.
According to the international record keepers, Cooper's World Records, this is the fastest single piece of legislation passed since The Emman Emirates banned English homework.
Additionally, the Prime Minister today complained of an upset tummy. No one in Cabinet displayed any sympathy for him, however, stating that he brought it on himself by racing the President of the Michelle Republic at iced coffee/chocolate drinking.
Recently, I have been approached by people about the nature of some of the articles that have been published on The huwr Factor. These commenters have never been rude, but have offered what I consider some helpful advice. The biggest piece of advice that I have received was to do with the level of cheekiness in my articles.
They have implied that some of them may be offending some people. Their comments have never actually been direct as to who may be offended, because there are few ways to be certain if I have offended.
While some articles are intended to offend, those articles are not aimed at individuals. Whenever a friend is mentioned personally, I have tried to be tasteful and concerning of their feelings. I admit that I may have crossed the line from satire to offense, but you need to help me out and tell me if you have been offended. If you don't, I may accidently cross it again.
There is nothing that makes me sad more than offending my friends. So I will make this appeal to readers now: if you have been mentioned personally in an article and are offended please contact me.
MICHAELINIA, Michaela Empire: A scientific report issued from the University of Michaelinia has revealed that Her Most Michaelic Majesty, Queen Michaela of the Michaela Empire is actually taller than everyone thinks. The scientific report does not reveal the exact height of Her Majesty, but has been backed by many scientists from various overseas research centres.
The Huw Federation Government has declared that it is sceptical. "She's still a short-arse", said the Prime Minister.
However, Federation Parliament has yet to announce a position on the report. "We can't seem to agree on anything. Which isn't surprising... because we're, you know, Parliament", said the President of the Upper House, Mr Cinnamon.
President Sewell of the Valese Union is so far the only foreign Government to announce its position on the report. Ms Sewell announced that even if the report's claims are justified, she is still taller, damn it.
So I have started riding my bicycle to and from school again. This wouldn't have been possible without Mark kindly letting me lock my bike up with his. I'm going to get a lock this weekend sometime. It's 8 kilometres (5 miles) to school, I make it. Takes me 15 minutes to get to school. That means I have an average speed of 32 km/h (20 M/h) going to school. I have no idea how long it takes me to get home from school. Something always hinders me or I have to stop and do something.
Yesterday while riding home I met a dog. I met it lying in the grass just before Calwell, in Isabella Plains. It wasn't a big dog. Just a tiny little fluffy thing. The kind of thing that you could imagine being called "pookie", spending most of its time hanging out in the handbags of cranky old women. I usually think little of these wee beasts.
What was particularly interesting about this incidence was that this dog had red patches around its legs, as if it were wounded quite seriously. It was licking the patches and between its legs. I stopped to get a closer look, but it continued to lick the patches. I approached it closer and saw that it had indeed been wounded, the red patches were indeed blood. The extend of the wounds were not clear to me.
I couldn't just leave it there. Those wounds looked bad. It didn't have a collar, which might have indicated the particular old lady who owned the handbag it hung around in. There was a vet centre on my way home, about a kilometre away. I could take the poor thing there.
Nevertheless, I didn't really want to approach it too quickly. It might be a little cranky after being wounded.
For as long as I had been standing there, it had remained licking its wounds and not looked up once. I wanted to approach it carefully and make friends with it. Having a wounded dog on my lap for a kilometre would require it to trust me. However, when I attempted to grab its attention with a few soft cooing noises, it ignored me. I tried saying them louder, and then louder until I may as well have been shouting at it. Was it deaf or just ignoring me? Was it incapable of hearing me or just licking itself at me?
A head appeared over the fence across the path from me and the wounded dog.
"'ello? What iz it?" it said frenchly.
The face quickly realised what was going on and disappeared below the fence again. The face came through a gate a few seconds later, with the body following it in the usual manner. I explained my predicament and what I knew of the situation so far, before the Frenchwoman explained to me that she knew nothing of the dog or who's handbag it lived in. She did explain that she would take it to the vet if I would help her pick up the dog and put it in her car.
Really I had got no further than when I had originally met the dog. I still had to make friends with it, and I still had to pick it up. Well, how much damage could a little dog do? I bent over and boldly put my hand on the dog's back, hoping it wouldn't rip my arm off.
It looked up this time, giving me full view of the wounds the dog had suffered. They were extensive. There was a gash leading from her ribs down to the third 'nipple' on the right. It was bleeding slightly. The wound may have gone further, but it was obscured by her tail that was firmly between her legs.
She let me pick her up. It was awkward. I didn't want to put any stress on the wound. The dog shivered all the way to the woman's car. I had to walk through the woman's house, which smelt like incense, to get to the the car. The woman had made a nest in the passenger's seat out of some towels, so I put the dog there. She drove off almost immediately, leaving me to walk through the empty, unlocked house alone to get to my bike on the other side. I locked the doors as I went through.
I'm not sure which vet the woman took the dog to. The closest vet did not know about any little fluffy white dogs when I checked with them later. It did know about a little fluffy white cat, but no dogs.
I figure the dog will be okay. I hope the Frenchwoman had her keys to get back into her house.
Today I went to buy a small FM radio. All I want it to do is receive FM radio. I regret what I bought.
The range of machines in the shop I was in was astounding. What possesses some engineers to stuff every possible feature into an FM radio is beyond me. I wanted a machine that did one thing, and did it well.
As it happens, it does nothing well.
This blasted thing cost me $8. Waste of money. There were others there in the shop that were cheaper that could have done a better job, though.
I should have gone further and bought one from a more reputable store than "The Warehouse". What possessed me to go into that shop in the first place is beyond me. It was recommended to me by a friend who was accompanying me on my buying adventures. She has since been legitimately made fun of.
The country where this thing was made has clearly not developed glue technology as well as one might hope. Five minutes after getting it home, the back cover fell off. It is now held together by Sellotape.
Not to mention the controls suck. When you are deliberately looking for a broadcast on a particular frequency, say 101.5 MHz, the scale on the dial reads "104 MHz". It took me for ever to find the radio station that I want, so once I got it I stuck the dial down with Sellotape as well. Lord help me if I ever want to change stations.
I might return the infernal contraption tomorrow and go and buy a good one. You know, a good one?
I asked several peoples what they would do with a big fat sponge. Here is some of what they came up with:
- wash the world clean. - Patr1ck, #adium, irc.freenode.net
- I would sop up a pond - selcouth, #adium, irc.freenode.net
- If it were in cake form, though, I'd probably eat it. Because I'm ... hungry? - Mr Roberts, over MSN.
- I'd soak it in alcohol, set it on fire, and hurl it at my enemies. - fiyin, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- hrm me? probably clean my kitchen... it really needs it - Si, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- I should hire scantily clad women to clean my kitchen. - fiyin, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- jump on it - Lenore, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- throw it in a small lake... and see how much it soaks up - SavageZealot, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- I hate sponges... they are all nasty and germy and gross... and they smell gross too - Kanerix, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- Light it on fire. - KsiLaptop, #adium, irc.freenode.net
- if it was gbig enough, id use it as carpet - Lenore, #ev3, irc.ambrosia.net
- cut it up and start a car wash - Mac-arena, #adium, irc.freenode.net
Me, I'd weigh it... I don't know what I'd do after that...
Leave what you'd do in the comments.