Thursday, January 29, 2004

Cock Sucking Cowboys

I often spend large parts of my day searching the internet for signs of my presence. I like to imagine that everyone does this, and that it isn't just an egocentric preoccupation of mine.

I'm finally listed as number one on google for 'Ralpharama' and also 'Ralph Capper', I also top the charts for 'Bloody Toes Ralph', for reasons that aren't entirely clear.

I once typed in a dream to an internet website, foolishly, for fun and used the username 'Ralpharama', then forgot all about it, until, to my horror, it came back to haunt me in the top ten of google when I searched for 'Ralpharama'. The dream was, let's say, rather personal and I was somewhat mortified to see that the teaser text that went with the google listing gave away rather more than I'd like.

I wrote to the website, and asked them to please remove the page, or change the username. No reply, until, a week or two later, that email appeared on the website too… Happily, over the last several months, the whole thing has faded away to be simply a bad dream.

(I also confessed to burning a pair of shoes of someone I used to live with, out of pure spite, in the dream too. I hope she never saw it...)

So, anyway, the one presence that has me even more disturbed that that is my inclusion in this lovely little list, which popped up in google recently:

Yup, believe it or not, my website is listed under the teensex location resource, used by sticky fingered middle-aged men all around the world.

I'm just below 'Big Daddy's TGP'.

How did it get there? Well it's a link to my cocktail pages, and on the front page there I say:

"You won't find any Zombies or Cock-Sucking-Cowboys here - these are all quality drinks that require sipping."

Yes, you spotted it - 'cock-sucking'. It's actually a cocktail I drank in Australia, really it is.

The worst thing is that now, after this post, I'm certain to be linked to a whole load of other cock-sucking (cowboy) websites, after saying ‘cock’ another 8 times.

Ah well, there's no such thing as bad publicity I suppose.

Monday, January 26, 2004

Cough Twice Please

I’ve got a cough, so my wife brings me a bottle of syrup home from the chemist.

I examine the bottle, after taking two, carefully measured spoonfuls. I know better, now, than to try and swig from the bottle, as I prefer to, disregarding the advice of unknown doctors on the side of the bottle, as this behaviour tends to make my wife upset.

I used to know a guy who would go to the chemist and buy a bottle of Benelyn cough syrup. Then, outside in the car park he would drink it all in one go and then drop the bottle on the floor, breaking it. He would then go back into the shop and buy another, showing the chemist his broken bottle. ‘I dropped it.’ He would explain, smelling of cough mixture. He’d then return home and consume the other with a few cans of lager.

Such behaviour is required, as chemists won’t generally sell you two bottles of the strong stuff at the same time. Too suspicious.

So, I look at my bottle and say to the wife, ‘Didn’t they have any that makes you drowsy?’

She looked concerned, ‘Does that make you drowsy?’

‘No, no,’ I say, ‘It doesn’t, but it’s better if it does. You know, no heavy machinery or driving type warnings.’

She just frowned at me.

I’ll take few swigs later when she’s not watching…

Saturday, January 24, 2004


"it's been two and a half weeks! I’ve already read all the articles and most of the book. get back on the blogwagon fr god's sake."
- Recent forum entry

This surprises me. Why? I had no idea that anyone was actually reading the thing, apart from a few friends who read it simply because they know me and are curious about the inner working of my mind (and to read about themselves obliquely I suppose).

I've been a bit ill for a few days (no, really), and we had a friend staying with us for over a week on her way back from Australia to England. She chose the absolutely worst week to visit, it being the coldest in recent memory, hovering around minus 30 to 40 the whole time. Except for one day when, at a mere minus 15 we went ice-skating. Her memory of Canada will be battling to reach a pub through blizzards before one expires from the extremes. And then you'll pass a half naked beggar lying in the snow as you walk by with several layers and a furry hat more commonly observed in Russian films.

A guy at the Berri Urqam metro station stands there all day holding the door open for people to pass through, then expecting you to drop coins into his little Dunkin Donuts cup for the service. Okay, it is better than simply begging, so I give him whatever change is in my pocket, which in this case is very little, consisting of a five cent coin, and an old black penny, which are sneered at generally in Canada and deemed worthless.

He looks in his cup and screams at me, 'Thanks for the f4cking black penny!' And, I almost walk back and have a fight with him, but as we just picked up our friend from the bus station, I think it'll be a bad introduction to Canada. So I leave it alone.
Did I mention the homeless guy that sleeps on the stairs in our hallway? I don't remember. If I haven't, I will.