And lo, she said, you'll be tired

Er, right.

Hello. I am now a dad. Amy Elizabeth Wallis. Beautiful, beautiful little girl. No piccies on the net.

This is the first moment I've had to have a look at the lock in and pub guide and it's very strange - it's like a window into another world.

Alastair - your functioning drunkard website is very intense - have you ever read Sleb? Written by someone who clearly has experience of being a functioning drunkard. I particularly like FD's booze hag (the one with the "Don't Ever Judge Me" graphic as part of her signature, who thinks she's found a kindred soul.

Strangely, FD's website (he's not a blogger, he's a websot, surely) has so many drunken attitudes and lucid moments it's like looking in a futuristic memory function thing. Annoyingly, being sober is the most difficult, yet tricky thing you can do. After all, you have to be very comfortable with who you are in order to spend more than 90% of your life sober. Or completely mad. I think most abstentionists (word?) fall into the latter category.

As you can probably tell I've had a drink. Well - 2 drinks. Not much, I agree, but the first real drinks I've had since Amy was born, and they are therefore having an effect.

Amy is the most wonderful girl in the world. She is clearly going to be Prime Minister and is certainly going to be a handful given she is "strawberry blonde" and Taurus. I have obviously taken the blame for her hair colour, given my ginger beard and support of Manchester United. It hasn't escaped my attention that (thankfully) she resembles Nic in almost every regard, including skin colour - but those Scottish genes of mine continue to poke through.

Amy and Nic are currently at the in-laws. I have been working all weekend, so I am going to get a morning's sleep tonight. It's the first time I've had a moment to think and be even slightly boozy and it's made me realise it's the first opportunity I've had to be even vaguely lachrymose about Amy and how much I love her. For the birth I had to be "strong" as Nic was in trouble for a bit. For the time I had off work I was just completely stunned by the whole thing and spent a lot of time just enjoying being part of a new family. Since I've gone back to work I've had to shut a lot of stuff off and just cope with it. The same when I come back from work.

This is the first chance I've had to have a few beers and just think about it. You see, this is the positive side of having a drink. You get to remember how much you actually like life.

Right - I'm going to have one more beer then go to bed. Barman!

I want a hamdog!

Pradel alerted me to the media storm surrounding the Hamdog: a dream of a snack, featured in the Miami Herald: a hot dog wrapped in a beef patty, deep-fried, covered with chili, cheese and onions, served on a hoagie bun and topped by a fried egg and two fistfuls of fries.

It's reported that a nutritional (is that the right word?) analysis found 623 calories with 35 fat grams for the dog and 828 calories with 50 grams of fat for the burger. Mmmm...

Unfortunately, that article is subscription only - but here's a summary, from the Rochester Democrat and Herald, of some of America's finest culinary moments, including of course, the Hamdog.

Things I should have posted:

From Holymoly:

It seems Dublin is alive with great shop names. A bloke called Ritchie - owns a carpet shop. He is... LINO RITCHIE!

>After our discovery of the carpet salesmen Lino Ritchie last week, i had the following mail: "As someone who grew up in the town where Lino Ritchie first launched, I'm disappointed you didn't include his slogan: "Our prices will have you dancing on the ceiling".

Meanwhile, from rival gossip sheet Popbitch - who cares if it's true, it's a great story:

>We'd be getting more excited about the election if the leading MPs were more like George Brown, the deputy leader of the Labour Party during the 1960s. A noted drunk, George's finest hour came at a London diplomatic reception. As the band struck up the first number, he approached a potential conquest in a long, red velvet dress
and asked, "Beautiful lady in scarlet, may I have the next dance?"

"Certainly not!" came the reply.

"Why not?" asked George.

"In the first place you are drunk. In the second, this is not actually a waltz but the Hungarian national anthem; and, thirdly, I am not a beautiful lady in scarlet, I am, in fact, the papal nuncio Archbishop Mancini."

London Bloggers

I found out via the forum at one of my favourite sites, Virtual Norwood, that there exists a site called London Bloggers where you can search for local bloggers via tube/rail stop. Nice!

I stumbled across this little wonder - Functioning Drunkard - which I admit frightened me a bit. I'd suggest we made him an official friend of the guide, but he may be a bit hardcore for us mere dilletantes.

Sick news

The nice people at B3ta this week sent me this.
Really, don't listen if you've just eaten. Really. Promise me you won't.

>> Vomiting news reader <<
"I heard this on Sydney radio last week", splutters Joseph, "and thought you might like it. We have to salute this radio newsreader who gamely continues trying to broadcast, whilst vomiting copiously and obviously. It's the little noises at the back of the throat that got to us.
http://www.crikey.com.au/images/2005/04/28-10E3PDY9B00.mp3

Garders did it much more professionally on URE once. Where did that studio dustbin go?

In sad news, Lucky The Dog, isn't so, er lucky.
More Than a little sad

Lucky, er, sometime before yesterday.

A nation mourns. But isn't it a wonderful world where this news comes under the heading "celebrity", and puts it ahead of J Lo wanting to be the first female president of the US?

Principal Horn

The BBC jobs email dropped into my inbox this morning to alert me to the fact that BBC NOW (that's the BBC National Orchestra of Wales) requires a Principal Horn.

Just thought I'd share that.

But whilst I'm at it, does the BBC run the National Orchestra of Wales, or does it have its own National Orchestra of Wales, completely separate from the state (ahem, principality's) National Orchestra of Wales - perhaps The Welsh National Orchestra? And what about the Welsh Nationalists' Orchestra? Splitters. Who pays for them?

No I'm not a father yet. I'm beginning to sound like one, though...

Beer Maths

And here's one from the files of Will's Dad:

> DON'T CHEAT BY SCROLLING DOWN FIRST!
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> It takes less than a minute.......
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> Work this out as you read.
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> Be sure you don't read the bottom until you've worked it out! This is
> not one of those waste of time things, its fun.
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> 1. First of all, pick the number of times a week that you would like to
> have a pint. (Try for more than once.)
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> 2. Multiply this number by 2 (Just to be honest)
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> 3. Add 5. (for Sunday)
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> 4. Multiply it by 50 I'll wait while you get the
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> 5. If you have already had your birthday this year add 1755.... If you
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> 6. Now subtract the four-digit year that you were born.
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> You should have a three-digit number
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> The first digit of this was your original number
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> YOUR AGE! ~ (Oh YES, it IS!!!!! )
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> THIS IS THE ONLY YEAR IT WILL EVER WORK, SO SPREAD IT AROUND WHILE IT
> LASTS.

I have seen the future, and it is...

Beercasting. These guys are serious. We must start doing this.

Actually, it's not that far removed from the post-bar shows of the student radio days. It always seemed much funnier when we were doing it than when we listened back to the tapes...

Leaving the club

This comes from yesterday's Guardian, and is scarily accurate.
Big Garders and I are planning a trip to legendary Essex nitespot Sam's next Friday. Which exit technique will we be using? We'll just have to wait and see...



Click on the graphic to enlarge.
Yes, after all these years, I've worked out how to do the thumbnail thing.

In the news:

Here's one that I was alerted to by the consistently excellent Friday Thing:
MOONER FALLS TO HIS DEATH OUT OF WINDOW

What I particularly liked about this sad tale of rugby player stupidity (and many would argue that impaling is too good for them) is the quote from the Dad: "I want to warn young people about the dangers of binge drinking." Well done.

That other bastion of all that is true, Popbitch, reported the following:

A hippopotamus has swallowed a dwarf in a circus accident in northern Thailand. "A dwarf, nicknamed Od, died when he bounced sideways from a trampoline and was swallowed by a yawning hippopotamus, which was waiting to appear in the next act," the Pattaya Mail reported. "Vets on the scene said Hilda the Hippo had a gag reflex which automatically caused her to swallow." The vets said it was the first time the hefty vegetarian had ever eaten a circus performer. "Unfortunately, the 1000 plus spectators continued to applaud wildly until common sense dictated there had been a tragic mistake. Police said the trampoline has been sent for forensic analysis."

Sadly, it seems to be a hoax. Perhaps it would have been nicer if Hilda The Hippo had swallowed the mooning rugby player. Actually, that's probably a common sight on the streets of Cardiff most nights around 2am...