I HAVE MOVED.

To here. Got a bit fed up with Blogger. Nothing personal, chaps.

Cheerio! x

Lessons I have learned from finally watching Con Air for the first time

1. Do not treat women like that.

2. Always put the bunny back in the box when asked.

3. He's got the whole world in His hands.

4. Don't trust South American drug lords.

5. The landing gear is not a suitable entrance to an aeroplane.

6. Colm Meaney is a dick once you take him off the Enterprise-D.

7. Do not open boxes with 'DO NOT OPEN' written on them.

8. Dead convicts are an excellent means of communication.

9. If you've served in the military, you will be unfairly treated by the American justice system.

10. If we knew the truth, we'd call him Johnny 600.

11. If you want the audience to sympathise with a convict but you can't think of a inoffensive-enough crime for him to have committed, simply fail to mention what he did to get himself landed in prison.

12. Drugs will end you, son.

Going out for a meal.

I'm a grazer, and always have been. I've never understood people who can eat vast meals and then go without food for about six hours. I seldom manage two courses, and any more than that is just sheer madness to me. And yet only a couple of hours after insisting that I'm totally full, I'll be hungry again.

For the most part, this is fine. I live with my dad and he's pretty much the same as me - we eat small meals and snack throughout the day. But it's a different kettle of fish when you're going out for a meal. It varies between restaurants, but 90% of the time I can't actually finish the food I've been given. And that's just the main course. I always feel vaguely ashamed when pushy restaurant staff are trying to sell me side-orders or desserts or extra drinks, and I have to say no to EVERYTHING - it's not that I'm a cheap bastard, it's just that I'm already struggling to deal with what's in front of me, never mind anything else.

Plus, all-you-can-eat buffets are essentially a waste of time. Because in, say, Pizza Hut, all-I-can-eat is actually about half a pizza. Except if I'd paid the same amount (well, maybe slightly more) just for an actual pizza, I'd be able to take the other half home and eat it later.

Part of me thinks this is something I should deal with, by somehow coaxing my stomach capacity to increase.

But the other part of me thinks I am fatter than I used to be, and I should shut up.

Happy Valentine's day!

Actually, I'm about an hour late. But I hope you had a good one. Genuinely, because I am not a bitter husk. Also I have had a lovely evening with my girlfriend. We made shepherd's pie and watched Limmy's Show. After that, she took to making shapes with my mouth, and we photographed the results:

In this photograph she has pulled down the bottom lip, causing the now-separated top lip to rise naturally, and I have incredible voids where my eyes used to be.

In this one, the iPhone has failed to understand that it's on its side. But I'm not really sure it matters.

So, my memories of this year's Valentine's Day look like a series of exotic torture snapshots, basically. I hope your day has been as memorable and beautiful as mine.