Whebbies

Shop Love

Back before the UK recession struck with a vengeance and punished us all for crimes (most of us) didn’t commit, there used to be a really great little independent shop in town that sold limited edition sculptures . Sculptures of anything and everything you could think of, from Godzilla to Marilyn Monroe and everything in between. The best part was that everything cost one pound fifty pence precisely. So instead of a pound shop it was a one pound fifty pence shop. This meant that you got a really good deal, but everything was slightly better quality.

The better quality was enjoyed by many. It meant that the Godzilla sculptures had more detail and the eyes looked more threatening and realistic. This obviously meant that the Godzilla sculptures sold fast, triggering a new found interest in this much loved thing that until the shop was there, people didn’t know they loved as much as they actually did.

Then came the recession. Within a few weeks there were signs that this shop, so full of weird and wonderful stuff – and often full of similarly odd people – was going to close. So the hordes rushed in and took advantage of the sale, where everything was reduced to seventy five pence.

Now, instead of putting smiles on peoples faces day in day out, that place is a Tesco’s. A Tesco’s! One without a godzilla in sight. It’s a tragedy. Or it was until I saw that the owners had started up a web-site…

The web-site contains everything you could ever want or need in the way of limited edition stuff; mainly sculptures, but there are signs they are moving onto other stuff to.

It just goes to show: when one door closes another door often opens.

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My Friend The Mistake

Every so often you come across a thoroughly fascinating blog that blows you away and makes you think “either this person is VERY bored or they are actually some sort of genius…” (although it has to be said that a lot of the time my thoughts don’t develop as far as the latter part).

The fascinating blog I came across recently was one about a girl who worked for data recovery London , I think. At first this put me off reading it, and then I saw what she was doing, and I got addicted to reading about what she’d been up to.

Basically, the blog she’d been doing for a couple of years was a kind of diary where she recorded every single mistake she had made every day. There was nothing positive, nothing even remotely worthy of a pat on the back. It was all mistakes, negative things, and it spanned everything from “Mistake 546: exploded rice in the microwave. I didn’t even know you could do that,” to “Mistake 876: accidentally fell in pond. Ducks not happy.”

Trust me on this: after you’ve read a hundred or so mistakes it gets addictive, trying to guess what the next one might be. So far I haven’t guessed correctly even once. I cam close a few times, and then the girl veered off into unimaginable dimensions of mistakes that I never even knew existed.

And this got me thinking how cool it was that someone was writing down all their mistakes. Because let’s be honest, most people are too busy saying about how good they are, and it takes a special sort of person – who I rarely meet – to write down all their shortcomings.

God bless the mistake.

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The Score

Without a doubt, the internet is one of the finest things that modern society has invented: it allows us to do the kind of research that only professors with access to the best and most prestigious libraries in the land used to be privy to, it’s great if someone texts you demanding you check out the latest Fosters Beer Advert, and it’s also not half bad if your favourite thing is checking out scantily clad babes doing things that would make enough feminists turn in their graves that it could actually alter the course of the Earth in the atmosphere. But then again, you have to also remember that as amazing as the internet is, it isn’t actually REAL life. Sometimes you have to remind people of that fact.

Probably one of the things that annoys me the most about the internet is the way that it really does invade every single aspect of your life. If you let it, that is. But I would be the first to admit that stopping it from doing so is no mean feat; in fact, when purchasing a mobile phone these days, you’ll be hard-pressed to find one that doesn’t have some kind of internet access.

For the most part, I don’t have a problem with this, but there is one time when I don’t want to see people accessing Facebook and Google, and that’s at a party. I mean, if there was ever a time when accessing the internet was wholly unnecessary, it’s then (with the only two exceptions being those people who are self-employed and need to check their emails, and those people so hopelessly sucked in that it’s inevitable). It may seem a bit harsh to tell someone to stop doing this at your party, but honestly, if you can’t at your own party, when can you?

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