Here is a totally serious website that is for people who are abducted by aliens on a regular basis. Mind you, it must get to be a bit of a bore after it’s happened a few times. But, it all gets far more interesting than that! If you are one of those repeatedly captured humans (bless your cotton socks) then this site could really be of help…

You are probably already well aware that stapling your own legs to your mattress will not prevent abduction (although the site does offer designer bedding that would help prevent them). Aliens are well-known for being stubborn and it will take far more than this to dissuade them! To stop those pesky Martians from snatching you away at all of those inopportune moments, you need to make yourself a properly protected helmet! And guess what? Yes, this website tells you exactly how to construct one!!! (They can offer you some of the ‘special material’ at a super low price of $30 as well…)

Also included on the site are some highly detailed instructions on how to wear and care for your helmet. Check out this snippet of useful information –

‘Aliens have taken ten helmets from abductees and several Velostat-lined baseball caps. If you are not wearing a hat they will go through your entire house looking for them. They will not, however, go into a locked cabinet. Before you make a helmet have some kind of cabinet or trunk that you can lock. That way they won’t take it.’

You see, they may be able to travel billions of light years across the galaxy at ludicrous speeds, but when it comes to a locked trunk they are stuffed. Even interstellar beings are not clever enough to get round a sturdy padlock! Got your special helmet shut away in the old wooden tea chest? Safe hands!!!

Alien abduction may get scoffed at by some people, but it is obviously a very real and dangerous threat to us all. And if this special helmet doesn’t stop them from taking you away, then there are some wonderfully effective anti-psychotic drugs on offer these days. If you tell your doctor all about your abduction problems he will only be too happy to write you out a prescription.

Us humans have it so easy with out Doctors in London and our cheap flights to Barcelona. Safely nestled in to our well-heated homes, watching TV. And when we get cold, oh! It’s the end of the world! Don’t you think that’s a little strange?

What I am saying is this: us doing-actually-really-very-well-humans complain far too much, especially in the most greedy parts of western society. That’s nothing that anyone didn’t know, of course, but still, now and again someone should say it. Apart from the fact that we really have no right to complain, with so many people in third world countries dying and contracting AIDS on a daily and growing basis, we have so much to champion. It’s almost ridiculous. So many things to do. So much freedom to take advantage of. The list of things we can do is almost infinite. If we want to drive to the seaside on the weekend then it’s really no problem, we can do so, and we can drive back along the motor-way in the blissful comfort of our incredible cars.

I suppose it doesn’t matter how many tragic advertisements we see on TV, or how many articles on torture and famine we read in the newspaper, we will never learn to appreciate everything we have while we have it. My hope is that we will learn to get better in time. It may take a hundred years to do this but however long it takes, it’ll be more than worth it.

I used to love writing letters. The entire process, from start to finish–The planning what to write–The actual painstaking business of writing itself, followed by the sliding the paper in to the envelope. Ah…There was something so magical about that, but even better was receiving a letter. You felt like the most special person on earth–

Emails destroyed all that of course. No longer did I feel special or unique. They wrecked several hundred—if not thousand—years worth of letter writing culture almost instantly, and without remorse. Humans, in their infinite ability to ditch the more satisfying pursuit in favour of the high-speed wizardry of modern technology, just can’t help themselves. If it’s faster and easier then they want it, regardless of its ability to satisfy.

Eventually I accepted the concept of email, just like I had accepted, years before, that jobs for vets were few and far between (and much more easy to get if you were a good-looking woman, as opposed to a large-nosed man). It took about five years but when I accepted it, I threw myself in to it the email thing fully. And then I noticed something horrendous–a pattern. And the pattern was this: I would write a tender, loving letter, and EVERYTIME I would receive a short response. It was truly awful. Just as I thought I had recovered from the fact that you couldn’t send a letter anymore and expect it to reach its destination that same year, I was met with this new traumatic stress. And I didn’t like it one bit!

So now I save my long, tender emails for those who appreciate them. Everyone else gets a standard reply: sorry, until you start sending me decent emails, this is all you’re getting pal!

Life, eh? Take firsthips for example: if you’re a girl and you get them early then all the other girls get jealous and hate you (I’m not a girl and never was one, but have it on strict authority that this is the case). If they come too late then that’s a nightmare too: you have to spend years being known as the girl with no hips. To be honest, going through life and not getting grief / being driven to give grief by the many possible annoying things that appear on a daily-basis, is actually impossible, whether you be man or woman or animal. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, there’s always something to complain about. Take this short story for example–

The other day a squirrel appeared in my garden. Not the daring squirrel I love, but the wimpy and easily frightened beast I have come to detest. Why do I detest Mr Squirrel? Simple: he is just so annoying to watch and he is also AFRAID OF HEIGHTS. Yes, seriously! Because of this, whenever I see him appear I know that I am about to begin an anxious and frustrating squirrel-watching session. I’ll be standing there for at least twenty minutes shouting at him to get his furry butt up the tree and retrieve those precious nuts! The worst thing is this: every time it ends the same way. Except this time I decided to help the poor little fella. I just couldn’t bear him getting his nuts in a twist.

I needed to help him because another more daring squirrel from next door had arrived on the scene, with the specific intention of grabbing the timid squirrel’s nuts. There he was, climbing the tree with ease. That was when I acted, rushing out of the back door brandishing a broom. “Get away from his nuts you pesky mother you!” I yelled for good reason (she really was a mother and this was part of the training to get her children to take over when she was done).

Hands are so wicked aren’t they? There are so many uses from hands, from operating heavy machinery, turning door-handles, fondling stuff, lacing up your mizuno running shoes , tossing lettuce about to make an exquisite salad, and generally doing all the things that feet will never be able to do (unless you’re one of those weird people who can do stuff with their feet: if you are I suggest you don’t toss lettuce. That’s pretty disgusting–).

But hands can get over-used, and really get on your nerves if that’s the kind of thing that gets on your nerves. Look at the news for example. If anyone can be guilty of using their hands too much then it has to be the politicians. Disgusting lot, aren’t they? And by using their hands all willy-nilly like that they are distracting us from listening to their words. They are useless to begin with, which means that by the time we have fought through the watching-the-hands-barrier we are utterly confounded about who to vote for and who to make walk the plank!

Then there are those who don’t use their hands enough. People like bus-drivers, for example, who would rather crawl naked across broken glass than actually drop the change in to your hands and risk contracting hepatitis (trust me: I know this because a bus-driver once told me that was why he wouldn’t give me the change. I reacted by slinging the change at him and teaching him a lesson he wouldn’t forget!)

It was always bound to happen, of course. With being given such excellent implements we just can’t help ourselves. Look at dogs with their paws: they’ve got it just about right. They only use them for the most important things. And maybe that’s the answer, but we can’t really justify the NHS replacing every pair of hands with paws now, can we? Imagine how hard it’d be to toss lettuce!

But there is something I do know about the The National Lottery: you have to get EXACTLY the right numbers to win any money. It’s that simple. With that in mind, why, on earth, do so many people think that having the next number along means that they have just missed out on winning many millions of pounds? Here’s the scenario of which we are all frustratingly familiar.

You and your friend are watching the numbers come up. The excitement soon goes from overwhelming to very annoying in the space of several seconds, as you realise that you have wasted a few quid on yet another lucky dip. Then you put your ticket down and accept it, but hold on, your friend is staring at the screen as if mesmerized. “What’s up?” you might say. “Have you won?”

Then this: “I’ve got 13 and it’s 14, I’ve got 34 and it’s 33, I’ve got 2 and it’s 3–Man, I was almost there! I nearly won the lottery!”

You try to control yourself, but the smugness in your friend’s voice—as well as the revelation that he / she isn’t the intelligent being you once thought, but an annoying git—makes you mad. “Shut up idiot!” you say. “It doesn’t matter if the numbers were the next one along, it doesn’t matter at all!”

Every week the same thing. I think I’ll be playing the lottery on my own from now on.

Just came across this online competition where the prize is ski resorts. Everyone should really enter, this would be such a cool way way to spend the long weekend!

For Enigin, wisdom makes it all work. And not only do they have it, they like to give it. The featured post gives an example of how you can benefit by employing a little bit of clever thinking.

It’s all about advice, you see. It’s no good thinking we have all the answers. Even the most energy-savvy business can learn many new ways of improving its policies and helping staff to do their job better, thus helping everyone involved. Enigin is made up of plenty of people from diverse backgrounds, and when all these minds get together a whole slew of new tips and hints get produced.

Be honest, there’s nobody else reading this but you: How shallow are you? Do you look at your face one hundred times a day and wince at the sight of a face which doesn’t cut it? Or maybe you’re obsessed with smiles? Does a fish-faced smile make you want to slap someone around and scream “Get a good face will you!!!”

Then Ratemyface.com is for you. It’s a web-site designed to specifically cater for the shallowest and most vain people who walk this planet: a place where misery and joy is bandied about in equal measure. A place where you can go up against the most desirable—or not—face in existence!

A friend introduced me to Ratemyface.com and if I am being brutally honest it wasn’t exactly the time of my life. First he manipulated me into having my picture taken—“smile your head off! The smile is important!”—and then he made me wait in the kitchen for ten minutes while he did something mysterious and funny with his laptop–

Then came the worrying moment: I was told to come and have a look on the website and there it was: my face on the internet for the whole world to cast their opinion on and pull apart.

If you’re feeling miserable and that your life is gradually becoming dull and worthless I would suggest running a mile when someone asks you to smile for a picture. The web-site is simple to use and will have you either laughing or crying in minutes as you either break down or rejoice at how much other people like your face. But there’s a plus side, don’t worry: if you feel down about your picture then chances are high that there’s someone worse off than you–

Good news everyone, I’ve been paid for that last freelance job that I did, you all know what that means, it’s about time to hit the store and pick up that new Garmin forerunner 305 that I have been waiting to get. Fred, are you up for a quality time this weekend?

Why do so many people have a problem with odd socks?

I realize that many people believe, fundamentally, that aesthetically speaking, any break-away from the norm might constitute a reason to worry about that person’s mental health, but really, should socks come under such scrutiny? For what reason should a pair of socks—or a pair of anything, for that matter—be matching? So for that reason I now categorically only wear odd socks. And since I started doing this I have upset a great many people—people on the bus, people in the work-place to name two groups—but that is just the way when you are trail-blazing–you have to be willing to come under fire.

One such way I have also come under fire is by loosing out on a job: yes, that’s correct. I lost a job—or was not hired for a job, I should say—because I did not have matching socks; I wish I was lying and this was a joke, but alas it is not fiction–meaning if anyone else knows about any jobs for vets where they are not concerned about sock matching…

I felt it only right to ask the nice interviewing lady to elaborate on why my socks had failed me, and this was her response: “Sir, I am sorry but there is a clause in the law, from 1866, which states that any part of a potential employee which distracts others is reason not to hire that person–”

So there you have it. Rock and Roll. I am the sock trailblazer, and I shall not stop until I have shown the world that this is outlandish! And then the day shall come when ever odd-sock wearer will rise from the depths and show the others what is what!

Yes, the awesome, the always fantastically angry Incredible Hulk.

As far as I’m concerned, the Hulk is one of the few characters to have really been worth watching repeated times. OK, I have to admit it, not all the incarnations of the Hulk have been incredible cinematic genius, but a few of them have been great–all, even when not great, much more watchable than, say, Spiderman 3. The Edward Norton version of The Incredible Hulk was actually really good; but the question is this one: should they continue to make more films and risk ruining the legend? And is there enough material left to create new things which please generations to come which will expect more and more?

I think that there is: Norton proved, in his version, that although the Hulk is, on the surface, a fairly dumb green rough-around-the-edges character, there’s a lot of mileage left in the Eric Banner man before he turns all monster and upset about everything. Maybe he could be an artist in the next movie or series? Or a sculptor, an architect? Or maybe the Hulk could discover some way to integrate into society which nobody could have predicted: imagine it, the Hulk as a surfer or maybe even an astronaut? I’d watch that, just to see what the aliens say when the Hulk lands on their planet.