Five Everyday
Oh look at me! I have gone all brown-like
Tanned in the manner of a Neapolitan ice cream melted in the sun and formed back into a mongrel-coloured bombe; tired but not as utterly shattered as previous years due to a need to treat my body with at least a modicum of respect but not so much that I don't smoke 30-a-day and drink turboshandies - damn bar-keeps forcing me to mix my drinks with disastrous consequences!; yeowww blisters on the balls of my heels due to excessive wellie-wearing, and sated with so much live music that it makes me want to watch YouTube vids repeatedly, especially so I can lie about the bands or vital, all-time great Classic Glasto bits I didn't see - YES! - I have returned from the land they call Somerset and the locale they call Pilton Farm and the transient city known as Glasto.
Look out at the dots of golden light pitting the valley from on top of Flagtopia. See how they shine at the end of it all and forget the awful disgusting nuclear-strength peepee and poopoo whiff that circulated round many a thoroughfare and the appalling need or more truthfully, burning desire to live like an 18th century Cheapside ruffian, which is what most men do and did. Except without the gin and knives.
Once you get there; after the soul-clamping hassle of waiting, training, walking and yomping your kit, you do realise it was all worth it. And once again when you sit at your computer trying to textualise the experience. Memories like the corner of my mind ... Only you, meaning me, myself and I, have to go and leave most of the vital my own cash-bought camping equipment behind, against the express instructions of the festival programme, because laziness has defeated logic and practicality. I haven't packed a tent since ... 2004.
It's like saying a big "UP YOURS, TWATTY!" when you realise, um, yes, I really do need a tent in the long term. Especially for that festival I'm going to in a few weeks' time. Past me hates future me while present me sighs in despair. We three don't get along. But isn't that always the way?
There were also bands, I suppose. And the Blood Red Shoes guitarist. Soft-cooing in my heart. Be still my beating chest, (or is that the Sudafed?) I'll probably say something stupid to her if I ever see her in Brighton like "I like you - can I buy you ice cream?"
Anyway, enough! Inevitably in blog-land, it's gonna be like the My Blood Valentine Facebook Status Swarm: "Dave saw MBV, it was great and now I have to wear a hearing aid for the rest of my life. Brilliant." I'm not going to do that. Not just yet.
Back to "Five Everyday"
So I'm going to do five quiz questions everyday for the foreseeable future. Simple as that. It's a commitment and one that's like the times2 quiz, in that I can't be arsed to do it on the weekend. What an amazing coincidence! By the way, these quizzes could also be called: 'In an Ideal World' and they will run concurrently with their big brothers, the BHers. Whenever they can be bothered to show their faces.
FE:I
1. Named in honour of the Athletico Bilbao player Rafael Moreno, what name is given to the trophy awarded to the top scorer in La Liga by the Spanish newspaper Marca?
2. Manuel 'Redbeard' Pineiro became the first director of which state intelligence agency of Cuba - the main one - in 1961?
3. Which 1989 Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel is a fictionalised account of the last days of the revolutionary Simon Bolivar?
4. Which comedian and actor, who recently played one half of a gay demon couple in the TV show Reaper, has published the book My Custom Van: And 50 Other Mind-Blowing Essays That Will Blow Your Mind All Over Your Face?
5. The name of a Guerlain perfume, which concept - known in Mongolian as orchilong and in Tibetan as khor wa - refers to the cycle of reincarnation and rebirth in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism?
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Answers to FE:I
1. The Pichichi 2 Dirección General de Inteligencia or DGI, now known as the DI or Intelligence Directorate 3. The General in His Labyrinth/El general en su laberinto 4. Michael Ian Black 5. Samsara
Tanned in the manner of a Neapolitan ice cream melted in the sun and formed back into a mongrel-coloured bombe; tired but not as utterly shattered as previous years due to a need to treat my body with at least a modicum of respect but not so much that I don't smoke 30-a-day and drink turboshandies - damn bar-keeps forcing me to mix my drinks with disastrous consequences!; yeowww blisters on the balls of my heels due to excessive wellie-wearing, and sated with so much live music that it makes me want to watch YouTube vids repeatedly, especially so I can lie about the bands or vital, all-time great Classic Glasto bits I didn't see - YES! - I have returned from the land they call Somerset and the locale they call Pilton Farm and the transient city known as Glasto.
Look out at the dots of golden light pitting the valley from on top of Flagtopia. See how they shine at the end of it all and forget the awful disgusting nuclear-strength peepee and poopoo whiff that circulated round many a thoroughfare and the appalling need or more truthfully, burning desire to live like an 18th century Cheapside ruffian, which is what most men do and did. Except without the gin and knives.
Once you get there; after the soul-clamping hassle of waiting, training, walking and yomping your kit, you do realise it was all worth it. And once again when you sit at your computer trying to textualise the experience. Memories like the corner of my mind ... Only you, meaning me, myself and I, have to go and leave most of the vital my own cash-bought camping equipment behind, against the express instructions of the festival programme, because laziness has defeated logic and practicality. I haven't packed a tent since ... 2004.
It's like saying a big "UP YOURS, TWATTY!" when you realise, um, yes, I really do need a tent in the long term. Especially for that festival I'm going to in a few weeks' time. Past me hates future me while present me sighs in despair. We three don't get along. But isn't that always the way?
There were also bands, I suppose. And the Blood Red Shoes guitarist. Soft-cooing in my heart. Be still my beating chest, (or is that the Sudafed?) I'll probably say something stupid to her if I ever see her in Brighton like "I like you - can I buy you ice cream?"
Anyway, enough! Inevitably in blog-land, it's gonna be like the My Blood Valentine Facebook Status Swarm: "Dave saw MBV, it was great and now I have to wear a hearing aid for the rest of my life. Brilliant." I'm not going to do that. Not just yet.
Back to "Five Everyday"
So I'm going to do five quiz questions everyday for the foreseeable future. Simple as that. It's a commitment and one that's like the times2 quiz, in that I can't be arsed to do it on the weekend. What an amazing coincidence! By the way, these quizzes could also be called: 'In an Ideal World' and they will run concurrently with their big brothers, the BHers. Whenever they can be bothered to show their faces.
FE:I
1. Named in honour of the Athletico Bilbao player Rafael Moreno, what name is given to the trophy awarded to the top scorer in La Liga by the Spanish newspaper Marca?
2. Manuel 'Redbeard' Pineiro became the first director of which state intelligence agency of Cuba - the main one - in 1961?
3. Which 1989 Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel is a fictionalised account of the last days of the revolutionary Simon Bolivar?
4. Which comedian and actor, who recently played one half of a gay demon couple in the TV show Reaper, has published the book My Custom Van: And 50 Other Mind-Blowing Essays That Will Blow Your Mind All Over Your Face?
5. The name of a Guerlain perfume, which concept - known in Mongolian as orchilong and in Tibetan as khor wa - refers to the cycle of reincarnation and rebirth in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Sikhism?
L
O
O
K
I
N
G
A
T
R
A
N
D
O
M
T
H
I
N
G
S
Answers to FE:I
1. The Pichichi 2 Dirección General de Inteligencia or DGI, now known as the DI or Intelligence Directorate 3. The General in His Labyrinth/El general en su laberinto 4. Michael Ian Black 5. Samsara
posted by That Quiz Guy at 7:48 AM
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