2007 – The Year Of The Secret Agent

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned (ie: not updated for almost a week)”

Say one “Our Father”, five “Hail Mary’s” and one “Glory Be”…

I was originally going to label this the year of the Cheese (big in-joke, but one that is pervading every facet of my life…like a cheesy virus), but after mentioning this to Rhycimus Prime, he looked at me, perplexed and said “The Year Of The Secret Agent”. Of course! I cried, slapping my thigh with my face, how could I have missed it.
But later, as I drove home, I was thinking. We call him “Double-Oh Seven”, but we write it “007”. Note the issue? See it? It’s right there!
See it?
Stupid-head…
We’re spelling his name WRONG!!!! We should be spelling it “oo7”. How can we possibly have been insulting such a dangerous person for so long?! You see, he’ll get us all yet…I’ll just tell him I thought we should have stuck with the cheese.

“Forgive me father, for I have cheesed (ie: made cheesy puns)”

Say one “Our Gouda”, five “Hail Mozarella’s” and one “Glory Edam”...


SO yeah. Back. Here I am before thee. I’ve had a rollicking week, learnt stuff, did stuff, broke stuff (yeah go on, tell us something new, thenick). But really, no, I did. It was just after midnight on New Year’s Eve, I was looking over the balcony and staring into the distance, watching as the brightly sparking fireworks launched haphazardly, but oh-so energetically into the sky, finally reaching their true flight path only to erupt into a completely self-destructive incandescent array…and a thought struck me.

I’m a firework.

No, really, hear me out. I come out with this insane ideas, and I am temporarily convinced of the complete and total genius of the plan. During that time, I forge ahead, my confidence and willpower being the perfect weapons to defeat the depressing forces of reality and common-sense (I hate those guys). Hatred is a sin.

“Forgive me father, for I have hated very reasonable and rational elements of the human psyche”

Say one “Abracadabra”, five “Hip-hop Hoorays” and one “Lordy Lordy”…

So yeah, off I go, leaving a trail of burning gunpowder, magnesium, barium and other flickering debris that is my genius (it deteriorates rapidly – what a metaphor!), and then just as I’m reaching the apex, the summit of my mad plans…BANG! And down I fall…
Down…
Down…
Down…
Burnt out. A husk of ruined cardboard and trace elements that is potentially bushfire-starting material.

And that’s how my plans go.

SO! My New Year’s Resolutions:

#1 Get Fit: Self-explanatory, but ties in closely with #4
#2 Do Something Creative: Kind of like being a firework…but without the explosion (and having somewhere to actually fly towards, I guess. Metaphors suck)
#3 Learn Something New Everyday: They aren’t exactly rocket-science, are they…
#4 Declare War On Mars: Read the last few posts – this will fall together. See, I decided they are not to be messed with, we need to be ready for them. I’m storing all kinds of weaponry for the inevitable war. I have colds, flus, microwaves mounted on cars (think about it…directional evaporative weaponry! VWAP!) I’m ready Mars. Oh yes. Let’s take this outside and settle it like bipedal carbon-based life-forms.

Q: What did you want to be when you were a kid? I wanted to be a scientist. Lord knows why, I'm crap at maths and cooking.
Song For The Day: "Down With The Sickness" by Richard CHEESE