Leaving generations of children obeese and scared of clowns

http://blogofhilarity.com/2008/10/02/the-7-most-completely-bizarre-mcdonalds-commercials/

Follow the link and enjoy a small sample of some of the most fucked up McDonald's Commercials ever produced.

Obama v McCain

These were generated by an automated script using the RSS feeds from Obama’s blog and McCain’s campaign RSS feed. The more often a word is used, the larger it appears. (Click on them to see a larger image.)

Interesting.

Hello. My name is Shelley, and I'm a knuckle cracker

I crack my knuckles. A lot. To the point that it has become a detriment to myself and those around me. Laura (work colleague/housemate) has bought earplugs. I'm not kidding. In light of such drastic measures, I thought it might be time to try to stop. So I did what all people in the modern age do: I went to the internet for advice.

I found a rather interesting article on Wiki (of course).

There is quite a bit in that article I find note worthy, particularly this: "Truly excessive knuckle popping, especially accompanied by the popping of other joints in the body, can be an early sign of more serious anxiety disorders."

They (Wiki and a few other resources I've read through) seem to be convinced that all nervous habits, such as knuckle cracking, nail biting, hair twirling, etc, all stem from some deeply seeded anxiety and that the easiest way to stop is to pinpoint said anxiety and take steps to reduce it. There is no doubt that I fall under the ‘excessive’ and ‘multiple joint’ categories, but I don’t feel as though I am particularly ‘nervous’. Could it be possible that I have some horrible anxiety disorder and not even know about it? Could it be the left over symptoms of a childhood anxiety disorder that has since resolved itself?

There also seems to be a widely held belief that the best, and perhaps only, way to stop yourself from knuckle cracking is through some basic behavioral techniques.

From the perspective of an addict, I think both of the above theories are crap. Cracking my knuckles feels good. This is why I started doing it. I continue to do it for the same reason, and because it is such an ingrained behavior that I do it subconsciously. Further, if I don't do it, it causes great discomfort in my joints - hence why I don’t/can’t stop. It'd be like telling someone they can only breathe once every 30 seconds. A person could do that, and they could live like that, but it would be uncomfortable and unnatural.

My question is open to anyone, but I am particularly interested in what John and Mike (and any other psych kids out there), think of this. How do I stop cracking my knuckles?

I hold no reservations that I would be able to do this cold turkey. So, as a first step, I have chosen a compromise. There are five different ways I can crack my knuckles. I am restricting myself to one. We'll see how that goes...

This, of course, does not take into account my neck, wrists, back, knees and toes, which I also pop on a regular basis. Baby steps people, baby steps.

breaking the silence

I realized today that I’ve had a couple of rather significant changes in my life over the last three weeks that you folks may or may not be aware of.

First up, I’ve got a new home and, despite any fears and hesitations, it’s absolutely awesome. You may remember my last house – i.e. the box in Camden. I loved it, but the size and plumbing (to put it nicely) left something to be desired. My new house is a two storey, three bedroom flat with two – count them two – bathrooms. I have one of those huge overhead rain shower things. I am still basking in its glory. The whole place is newly remodelled, modern design and furnishings, super spacious and just generally nice. The girls I live with are lovely, hilarious and Australian. They both cook well and often and I take full advantage of this. We get along well, though their love for crappy TV rivals that of Brandan. I thought my previous roommate had trained me fully in the realm of reality TV, but these girls put Brandan’s TV obsessions to shame. It’s almost terrifying. I’ve been watching a lot of Girls of the Playboy Mansion and Run’s House. Go one, judge me. I dare you. I’m really very happy with my current living situation. I’ve got some picture somewhere that I may get around to posting for those that are curious.

Next up, I’ve got a new job. As most of you know, I’ve left the law firm for an architect’s firm. What most of you don’t know is that my boss (from both the law firm and now the new place) resigned last week leaving me in a slightly different position than I ever expected. It really sucks that she’s gone – she was a great boss to have – but the company is now forced to give me a lot more responsibility than they otherwise would have. I’m now directly involved in the rebranding of the firm; from deciding the new name up to designing the look and feel of the new brand. I am also moving a lot of the design and production work in house. I spent last week putting together the interim report which will be published next week. I am a hell of a lot busier now than I ever have been at work, but I think that’s a good thing and I’m kind of enjoying it (for the time being at least). It’s kind of worked out to be a good opportunity for me, even though I miss my lovely boss.

Other news: I’ve got a cold and I miss my car something fierce.

New music obsession: Regina Specktor “That Time” and “Fidelity”

New music disappointment: I heard “Paper Planes” on the radio the other day and, I suspect due to the excessive street violence in London, they have removed the the gun sound effects in the chorus and replaced them with some guy shouting “click click click... ching... BOOM”. It just doesn’t do it for me.

Iritis

I have a made up disease. At least, it sounds completely made up.

I saw two doctors who didn't know what was wrong with me before I went to a third who said "Hmm. Well, I think you have.... Iritis!". Essentially, my eyeball is swollen. Weird, right? I have to use steroid eye drops for a month as well as a dilation drop - which means I have one giant pupil and one normal one. I look like an Alien. If you know me, you'll know what a problem this is for me.

Creepy eyes indeed, Lauren.

Love is watching someone die

That song came on last night and it brought me to tears. The thought of my grandmother holding my granddad’s hand as he died is heart wrenching. Yet, at the same time, there is something beautiful in the idea of her watching her husband of fifty-seven years take his last breath. I don’t think lucky is the right word, but maybe it is. My granddad used to tell us about the first time he met my grandmother; he went straight home and told his parents he had met the woman he was going to marry. My grandmother was, as she puts it, “less sure”. I’m not sure what he did to convince her, or if she even needed much convincing, but fifty-seven years later, I think about the time they have shared together, the things they have accomplished together, the life they have experienced together, and the love they had for each other up until the very end and, well, I think I would wish that kind of luck on to everyone I know.

There was a brief moment during John and Lauren’s wedding reception in which Jeremy and I thought one of us might need to make a speech. While it never panned out – which is most likely for the best as I had no idea what to say at the time – it made me think later on about what I would have said given that opportunity. It’s important for me to let all of you know (you who read this and care about where I am and what I am doing even though we don’t talk every day) that I consider you my family. I’ve grown up with you, I’ve laughed with you, I’ve cried with you, I’ve argued with you, I’ve learned from you and I’ve probably broken several laws with you. I am so proud of the things we have all managed to accomplish and I sometimes can’t believe we haven’t completely fucked it up. This whole ‘life’ thing can be a little complicated and I am infinitely grateful to have had you all to help me through it. I don't mean to be overly sentimental, it's just that, in light of recent events, I wanted to take a moment to let you all know how honored I am to be your friend. That’s all. Love!

So who’s gonna watch you die?

Brecon Beacons and various other things

I spent the weekend in the Brecon Beacons, a national park in the North of Wales. We went horseback riding with a group called "Bushwhackers", which (as you may have been able to tell from the name) is not an entirely serious tour group. We spent maybe five hours horseback riding on Saturday. It was gorgeous. We rode through a tiny village on our way to the park, where we rode through rolling fields and then over a mountain. My horses name was Evan. He was my bud. It was a lot of fun, if not a little painful (my ass still hurts). However, we then spent about twelve hours drinking. Of the whole group, there were about five nationalities represented. We combined all our various rules for Kings and created a masterpiece of a drinking game. The whole weekend was great and there are a few photos up on facebook if you're interested.

Last Thursday, I went to a music festival in the Shoreditch area. Of the 100+ bands that were playing that night, I had only ever heard of one: The Octopus Project from good ole' Austin, Texas. They were great and made me feel at home. I saw a couple of other bands that night which I picked based solely on their names. The first one was The Strange Death of Liberal England. They were good. The second was The Keyboard Choir. They were freakin' awesome. They were literally five keyboards and a conductor (please see below). It cracked me up.

Summer is slowly starting to creep its way into London. We had some glorious weather last week; 80's and sunny. I've spent as much of my last three weekends outside as possible. I particularly enjoy taking a book to the park and sitting in the grass. Apparently, so does the rest of the city. Since the sunny weather, I have discovered my favourite thing about British people: give them a little bit of warmth and a patch of grass and they all get naked and eat ice cream. (please see below). It's hilarious and wonderful.