Monkey Spanker

For more details on this see my new site: Godzilla Roars

To be honest though. I would imagine stage 2 is easier if you do it before stage 1.

Why am I even imagining this scenario?

That

was spooky - I was playing about over on Wordpress and this blog became unavailable to me I'm trying out over there at: http://manofnumbers.wordpress.com come and see me - comments about changing allegiances welcome.

Friday Flash Fiction

Write a fictional story in 55 words with at least one main character and a plot. See Susie and let her know if you're playing along. Here's my latest attempt:

The rain fell hard, plastering his hair to his scalp. The metal was cold in his hand. He could feel his frustration and aggression, but he must stay focussed. He wanted to make this swift and efficient, then forget about what happened. Why did he always get a flat tyre in this type of weather?

More Album Covers

here are some more treasures:

Tino seems like a nice boy. I'm picturing him singing falsetto for some reason....

This one baffles me slightly, I see the country connection, but where's the church? and are they really posing for another photographerjust to the right?

I would have thought a black tie was more appropriate for Freddie....

Rain

It's only a five minute walk to the tram for me in the morning. Yet today I was absolutely soaked to the skin. The rain was torrential and unrelenting, until I got to the tram platform of course, when it stopped. Normally I hate getting wet on the way to work. I don't mind geting soaked on the way home, as you know you can soon get changed. Sitting at your desk with wringing wet clothes is not particularly pleasant. Today though I didn't mind. It was almost as though the rain washed my dour mood away. To celebrate here's a bad joke: An Irishman goes to the Doctor with botty problems.... "Dactor, it's me ahrse. I'd loik ya ta teyhk a look, if ya woot". So the doctor gets him to drop his pants and takes a look. "Incredible"he says, "there is a £20 note lodged up here." Tentatively he eases the twenty out of the man's bottom, and then a £10 pound note appears. "This is amazing!"exclaims the Doctor. ''What do you want me to do?" "Well fur gadness sake teyhk it out, man!"shrieks the patient. The doctor pulls out the tenner and another twenty appears, and another and another and another, etc.... Finally the last note comes out and no more appear. "Ah Dactor, tank ya koindly, dat's moch batt er. Just out of > interest, How moch was in dare den?" The Doctor counts the pile of cash. "£1,990 exactly." "Ah, dat'd be roit,''says the Irishman Wait for it........... I knew I wasn't feeling two grand.."

The Early Bird

gets the worm, or so we're told. I'm posting early because I've got a long, stressful day ahead, and that's just work wise. Today is the anniversary of my father's death, and probably the main cause for my lame posts and melancholic mood this week. My father died 16 years ago today. From cancer of the throat, and he wasn't even a smoker. He was 51. I'm now closer to his final age, than I am to mine at the time of his death. That means something to me, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. Time is meant to be a great healer, and if I'm honest for a while it was. I may have mentioned before that I'm an only child, so I have no siblings to discuss and reminisce with. My mother doesn't really like to talk about his death and what happened. She nursed him for quite a while before he died, and he wasn't himself before he died. He was on morphine for quite some time, and kept a journal of sorts. To him I think it acted as a crutch. Most of it is incoherrent ramblings regarding the amount of food he had been able to consume. He was a bright, articulate man, who needed to try and keep some element of control over his life, yet circumstances robbed him of that. I don't want to go over the details of what happened at the end, there's a post from last year that I think goes into that, but seeing you father in a morphine stupor and weighing about 5 stones isn't the lasting image you'd like. Whilst I was still childless myself, time was a healer, the pain wasn't quite as sharp as the years went on. It hurt to see other people forging new and different parental bonds. Friends of mine would go out for a beer with their dad, and the whole dynamic of their relationships changed as they found new common ground, regarding work, relationships etc etc. I felt jealous and slightly bitter that I never got that opportunity with my father. Then when I had my first child another realisation hit. My children would never know one of their grandfathers. He too was robbed of the chance of enjoying the benefits that come of being a grandparent. This year we have another child, and the feelings come fresh again, another one who will never know him, except from photographs. He was wonderful around children too, they seemed to sense that he was the source of great stories and fun. I think he had so much to give because my parents had wanted more children, but were unable to have them. I know what a wonderful grandfather he would have been, and it is painful to know that my children have missed out on the fun he would have brought them. Sorry for the depressive tone of this post, if you've made it this far, but I see this as somewhere to express my feelings. Mrs Zilla is good at listening, but hasn't lost anyone close to her yet, and her parents are experiencing the joy of having grandchildren. I need to try and end this on some sort of upbeat note, so this quote is my attempt at it: It is not flesh and blood, but the heart, that makes us father and son. Johann Schiller

Nothing

much to post today. I've been tied up in dreary meetings and my mood isn't much lighter than it was. I'll be glad when this week is over. Go on, I'll try and make an effort: We have a new family game to play in the car. We all (those that can speak) have to try and spot Minis and Porsches as we drive around. First one to call a sighting, and get it verified by another player gets a point. First to 10 wins that round, and we start again. On a ten minute drive, to and from the supermarket, last night, I managed to win a round. I spotted 10, Godzooky 1 spotted 7 and Mrs Zilla managed a poor showing of 2. I never realised just how many Minis and Porsches there are out there. Lame posts may end soon...

Not sure

how to deal with today and all the events associated with it. This time of year is always difficult for me, but I'll deal with that issue later in the week. In the run up to today there have been a lot of programmes and articles dealing with the events of 11 September 2001. I remember vividly how we first became aware of the events, as word spread round our office. It was a first in may ways. The first co-ordinated, wide spread terrorist attacks, especially in the US. The first time events unfolded "live" via the internet. I can remember feeling incredulous watching the building burning, and then seeing the second impact, and realising this was far worse than anyone could have thought. It took me back to the time I was involved in a couple of terrorist explosions, here in Manchester in 1991. I was on my way to work when a bomb exploded outside the building I worked in. It was a surreal situation. One minute walking along the street, thinking of my upcoming day, then a blast wave rushing past me, glass and smoke everwhere. Had I been at my desy when it went off, I would have undoubtedly been cut by flying glass, there was plenty embedded in the wall behind my seat. The next few hours saw me herded from place to place by the police, as rumours of more devices came through. Unluckily for me. I was shepherded by the police straight into the second blast that happened later that day, and ended up covered in soil from that explosion. Unknown to me I was in shock. I got home somehow, to this day I can't remember my journey home. I rang my mother to let her know that I was fine, and she was totally unaware of any problems in Manchester. 5 years ago the world was made very aware, very quickly of things happening. My thoughts are with the families of people who didn't survive that day. The worrying thing for me, having watched a lot of these programmes, is that there were clearly mistakes made along the way, that enabled these fanatics to carry out their plan. It sounds as though a lot of recommendations from the inquiries have not yet been implemented. I hope there is never a repeat of such atrocities on the same scale. Hopefully my posts will be cheerier later in the week, but don't rely on it. I may hav eto resort to more dodgy album covers to lighten my mood!

Back to

the Twilight Zone - a place without marketing tactics, graphic design skills or taste :

Isn't it amazing how ventriloquist dummies start to look like their "owner", or should that be vice versa. Slightly ironic title too: presumably Ricky does most of the talking, Geraldine grins a lot, and the trees join in occasionally?

Dave strikes me as more of a slave to fashion, than the turntable, bad fashion of course. Note the self censoring nature of Dave, putting a Zap across his crotch, when surely Zip would hav ebeen more appropriate?

Joyce isn't giving much away, but then I'm grateful for that in some ways.

Julie's clearly not having a great birthday, perhaps John has just told her what her "special" present is?

Flash Friday Fiction

Here's my first attempt at this, it seems like fun, and I'd like to rekindle my creativity, if it's still lurking somewhere. I've been inspired by Lily and Snav, but Susie is definitely the boss when it comes to this. You get 55 words to write a very short story about a picture. I should add this isn't necessarily autobiographical... He put the key in the door, trying to turn it quietly. His breath sounded deafening in the silence. He peered into the darkness; what awaited him? Stumbling blindly he fell against something, causing it to crash loudly to the floor. He paused, waiting for a reaction within. Upstairs his wife thought “He’s drunk again!”

Would you buy one of these albums?*

I've uncovered a goldmine of atrocious album covers, this may become a regular feature....

Ken has hair that looks slightly unreal, a disturbing fixed stare and a lovely safari suit. Any requests for Ken?

I'm not sure which one is Al Davis, but my favourite is the one at the back, who is clearly touching up the lady, judging by her expression. Her hairline is also giving me cause for concern.

Cody appears to live in a nice neighbourhood, but he's spent too much on his house and not enough on his clothes.

Borrowing a feeling seems like a bit too much to ask - a cup of sugar maybe, but I don't think I'd like to know what feeling Cody is after.

This will be continued at a later date, I don't want to dilute the effect by posting too many at once!

* available at charity shops and some bad record shops, probably.

Toilet Humour

Last night we went to the supermarket, to pick up a few items. As usual, the Godzookies were prepared for transport: booted, attired in appropriate clothing etc etc Yet almost as soon as we entered the supermarket, who should pipe up, but Godzooky 1: “I need the toilet!” This despite the supermarket only being a five minute journey from home, and me, personally, asking him if he needed the toilet before we left. So I go to the Gents with him. Once we get into the toilets he expresses his disgust at the aroma. This coming from a six year old capable of producing weapons grade chemical smells of his own! Once he has safely ensconced himself within a cubicle, the next moan comes: someone hasn’t flushed after a prior visit. Again, another complaint which he himself is often guilty of! Like a good child, he washed his hands, using soap and everything. He then went to use the hand driers attached to the wall. I watched in growing amusement as he struggled to get his hands dried. He was pushing and pulling all manner of buttons, seemingly unaware that normally he just pushes the large button on the front and hot air begins blowing. In fact he was pushing and pulling all the buttons on the condom machine next to the hand driers! I am a bad parent.

New Term

The last day of the school holidays. When you’re a child the summer holidays seem to last for an eternity. As a parent Mrs Zilla cannot wait for it to be over. Godzooky 1 doesn’t want to go back to school, yet he’s done nothing but complain about being bored for the last couple of days. He struggles to come up with entertainment for himself. Mrs Zilla’s parents did the child care before we had Godzooky 2. As the only grandchild and in their constant company during the week, they indulged him excessively. All his entertainment needs were provided, and his need to play on his own was nonexistent. Mrs Zilla gave up work when we had Godzooky 2 – she didn’t want to miss out on another childhood, and we both felt that it would be better for the children. Godzooky 2 has been left to her own devices for a lot of the time – necessity is the mother of invention, and she has plenty of imagination to create her own fun and games. Godzooky 1 is fine when there’s group activities or some one on one time, but he struggles to keep himself entertained. Some days when I’ve arrived home the house has been like a battlefield. Godzooky 1, being unable to create his own fun, constantly tries to join in with Godzooky 2. Having devised her own entertainment, she often doesn’t enjoy him gate crashing and trying to take over. As an only child I was reliant upon myself to find things to do. I can see the inherent advantage in having siblings as ready made playmates or confidants, but I also see the need to be independent and creative. I think I may need to spend more time with Godzooky 1 developing his imagination and creativity. At the moment everything I’ve try just seems to get “parroted” back. I don’t want him to feel frustrated and bored by his lack of creativity.

Recap

Friday night was very enjoyable - good food and wine, there were many funny moments in The Holy Grail that had slipped my memory, and I managed to lay a guilt trip on Mrs Zilla. Heh, heh! The weather this weekend has been atrocious. Persistent rain, accompanied by the occasional teasing bright spell. The trip to buy shoes wasn't as painful as first feared. The only real problem was that the terrible weather had inspired everyone to go to the shopping centre. This place has over 10,000 car park spaces. when we approached, only 650 odd were left. Although, given past experiences, the signs do seem to lie a little. I was fearing a situation like the New Year sales, where, in the past, I have witnessed actual fist fights over a parking space. Nothing like being reasonable is there? As it turned out we found a space quite close to an entrance, under cover too, thus avoiding a soaking. The malls seemed busy, and most of these people appeared to be out of towners, given their avid reading of maps of the centre! I thought this might be the case, as the England national football team were playing a match just down the road later in the day. We made it to the shoe shop easily enough though. Although I am often left wondering why people without wheelchairs/pushchairs wait in a queue for a lift, when escalators are bountiful? When you arrive in the shoe shop you are given a ticket number, and wait to be called. We were allocated 009. The next number to be shouted was 001, so there was hope. We only had to wait about five minutes before it was our turn, but five minutes can seem like a lifetime. Mrs Zilla took Godzooky 1 off to peruse the different available styles. Like most males, Godzooky 1 doesn't have strong opinions about shoes. Until you show him option of flashing lights or some other essential optional extra. Godzooky 2 was not happy at being left with me and the smallest Godzooky. She wanted to be out there handling the merchandise, like any true female spirit. It was a busy shop though, and she wasn't able to just wander off. So, once Mrs Zilla returned, I was despatched to let her have a look at the girls shoes. This proved to be a big mistake. Her idea of looking and mine varied enormously. My view: look at the shoes and point at nice pairs. Her view: pick up every single pair of shoes and try to get them on your feet. Regardless of the sizes. It became clear that Godzooky 2 thought she was getting a new pair of shoes too. This despite the fact that she got a new pair last month, and a new pair of trainers, and a pair of wellington boots to splash in puddles with, this month. That shows what delightful weather we've been having! Having been treated to a mini tantrum and a jutting bottom lip while she sulked, there came the time for negotiation. I managed to finally persuade her that it would be better for us to come back another time to look for a pair of boots for her, when the shop was less busy and she could try on as many pairs as she wanted. I hope that Godzooky 1 was learning from this masterclass of tactics I was giving. How to deal with a female in a shoe shop is something every man needs to learn, as soon as possible!

It's almost

the weekend, and for a short week this seems to have dragged. In an effort to cheer myself up I have just purchased Month Python and the Holy Grail on DVD. I've already got it on video, but who watches those any more? I'll probably have to get it on Blue Ray or something in about 10 years too! My thanks go to Snav for mentioning it recently and reminding me what a cracking film it is. Part of my needing cheering up stems from last night. Putting it euphemistically, I "pleasured" Mrs Zilla and expected reciprocation, as one expects in polite circles, yet she rolled over and went to sleep! My male status in the house is clearly under threat. Had I been crueller (or sharper of mind) i would have given her a special wet patch to sleep in! Had I not watched a programme about what seemed like the world's messiest divorce last night, I may well have been seeking to serve papers today! Enough of such base matters. At least I have my DVD and a few drinkies to look forward to tonight. But why, oh why didn't I use some common sense and get Godzooky 1 new school shoes before the last weekend he starts back? This means a trip of terror to the sensible children's shoe shop. A queue to get his feet measured, then some negotiation as to what type of shoe he wants, only to discover that they've sold out of that type. Is it becoming obvious that I've been here before? It's that "old dog, new tricks" thing again isn't it?