Monday, August 25, 2003

The future is female

Terminator 3, which I went to see last night, scared me even more than T2. Why? Because there's this virus, right, that, like, gets into all the computers across the world and, kind of, like, takes over and kickstarts nuclear armageddon. Just like the Sobig F virus! Um, without the nuclear bit. But it's pretty bloody terrifying, innit? And if there was a computer-launched nuclear attack we Mac fans wouldn't be able to sit back and say, 'Oh well, it doesn't affect us.' We'd be fried along with all the Windows users!

Rat fanciers will be delighted to hear that even though our vet is so rubbish that he didn't even charge us because he knew he was rubbish (he looked at them, sprayed them with flea stuff and then said, quaveringly, 'Get back in the box, you little bugger' when Nancy went near him), the sneezes and splutters have almost completely stopped. The only rodent-related problem we have now is that our flat smells of wee. No, it's nothing to do with my girlfriend. Not this time, ha ha. (I'm going to get beaten up for that one.) Nancy and Syd have soiled their hammock and are lying in it. But in an adorable way.

I was dancing in the window earlier after getting overexcited watching Blue Crush (it's Point Break in bikinis, dude), when I sensed an outbreak of mirth down below. There were six people in the street looking up at me and laughing. Hey, I'm sure they were laughing with me.

Congratulations to cousin Martin for getting engaged to Andrea. Nice to see someone other than Bush and Blair doing something for Anglo-American relations.