MrDavio's Xanga

OMGLOL

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 18:31:46 GMT

Basically I used google translator to convert the lyrics to 'deal or no demo' into Japanese, and then back in to English, thus creating an Engrish version of Deal or no Demo. Enjoy.

################################################## # # # #
a contract and no protests - Klaus Simon and James Blake by the D avioŁ lyrics
################################################## # # # #
What box?
(What box?)
What box?
(What box?)
What box?
(I do not know what)
I do not know

It is a thousand pounds?
A 20 pound?
30 to 6 20?
I do not know
I do not know
It is a snake?

() Break

Oh, I hope that's not a snake

Like a cobra or adder
Whether or Python, mamba,
Such as lager and cider
Anaconda in your Honda
Some of you like cornflake cornsnakes
Milksnake in a milkshake
And the Thai toilet pan
Oh well I hope it's a different god of snakes

(Chorus)

2000 pounds?
That's 40 pounds
Or the 2-50 K?
I do not know
I do not know
Moleshark it?

() Break

Moleshark not Christ, I hope!

It will be the key
Fate of the ovaries?
Gateway to Oregon
Whisk non-compliance?
Or a portal
Badger's atrocities?
Or to jitty
1 100000 pound mammoth?

(Chorus)

Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
He MAZEYO your fingers of the feet?!
(Hairy toes)

Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
He MAZEYO your fingers of the feet?!
(Hairy toes)

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 13:18:00 GMT

For some reason we were all asked to come up with our own individual story concepts for a group based module; despite us only using one concept between five people.

It's difficult to exemplify the sheer degree of baked I was when I wrote this...

Creative Animation (CAN)

Story idea for a short film.

Genre: Comedy

Target Audience: Teenagers and Young adults (12-30) Although probably flexible.

Length: 2.5 minutes Approx

The story begins as a proud and mighty bear is awoken from his sacred Sunday afternoon kip by petulant rabbits incessantly rogering on his front lawn. He dons his stripy slippers and rolls up yesterdays newsprint, and marches determinedly out of his clichéd mossy, forest creature accommodation and stands sternly at the edge of his crazy paving.He draws a deep sharp breath and widens his stance, leans forward and forces out the meanest, most fearsome, grizzly roar he can muster. Only his roar isn't quite a roar. The rogering rabbits collapse in fits of laughter as the mighty bear instead, emits a desperate and pathetic squeak. The bear cowers in embarrassment and runs back inside.

Cut to an interior scene. The bear sits on it's stackable plastic chair, dwarfing it. He's in a self-help group, holding a polystyrene cup of machine coffee with teary eyes, and a quivering jaw.

Cut to a similar scene as what began, rabbits continuing to roger. The rabbits giggle at the sight of the disgruntled bear standing at the same spot on his DIY patio as the first time they saw him, and continue the rogering unphased.

This time the bear smirks, leans forward and bellows a deafening roar, that causes the rabbits to petrify and die instantly.

The bear looks pleased with himself, sighs and walks across the lawn and is nonchalantly shot by poachers whilst picking up his morning paper.

The End

I then created this.

Just wanted to share.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 01:55:56 GMT

Simon and I wrote a song tonight. Its working title is 'Deal or no Demo' and it's based on the gameshow of a similar name.

######################################################
Deal Or No Demo - lyrics by Simon James Klaús and Davio L Blake
######################################################

What's in the boxes?
        (What's in the boxes?)
What's in the boxes?
        (What's in the boxes?)
What's in the boxes?
        (What's in the I don't know)
I don't know

Is it a thousand pounds?
Is it twenty pounds?
Is it thirty-six twenty?
I don't know
I don't know
Is it a snake?

(break)

Oh, I hope it's not a snake

Like a cobra, or an adder
or a python, or a mamba,
like a lager and a cider
Anaconda in your Honda
like some cornsnakes in your cornflakes
and a milksnake in your milkshake
and a taipan in your bedpan
Oh good god I hope it's not another snake

(Chorus)

Is it two thousand pounds?
Is it forty pounds
or two-fifty K?
I don't know
I don't know
Is it a Moleshark?

(break)

Christ I hope it's not the Moleshark

Is it the key to the
ovary of destiny?
Or the gateway to the
whisk of non-conformity?
Or the portal to the
badger of atrocity?
Or the jitty to the
Mammoth of a hundred thousand pounds?

(Chorus)

Beware the Moleshark,
    (Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
    (Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
    (Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
He'll bite your fucking toes
    (Motherfucking toes)

Beware the Moleshark,
    (Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
    (Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
    (Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
He'll bite your fucking toes
    (Motherfucking toes)
######################################################

LIMBOoooo

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 05:39:47 GMT

Life is bland, you know. Not having any work to do is magical n'all for the first few weeks, then you kinda get stuck in this holiday limbo. An endless cycle of sleeping all day, partying all night, and collapsing from exhaustion whenever the sun comes up. Sleeping, however, is not helped by the fact that my curtains are completely rubbish and may as well not even exist. I've recently found myself barricading my window with towels and pillows and bits of card, trying to seal off every bit of annoying light so I can finally sleep for 13 hours, and this all makes me feel twatishly vampiric.

Thing is, Id really like a job this summer. The most debilitating thing between me and this objective, is that I have my entire family and family friends nagging me about doing something about it. My father above all should understand that I'm permanently conditioned to do precisely not what I'm nagged to do after 20 years of having predominantly bad things the subject of all nagging. Thereby reinforcing my nocturnal habits so I don't have to deal with anyone. The bastards. I need a night shift.

Whenever I do resurface, probably around 4 or 5pm, with and unprecedented hairdo and an immediate kettle boiling. My pointless whatever's-in-the-fridge life is gently ridiculed by whichever patronising cretin is about the house during sociable hours. There'll be an ironic 'GOOD MORNING!' or a 'GOOD NIGHT LAST NIGHT THEN?'

It wasn't funny the first time someone said it, and it's not getting any titting funnier.

Most painful of all, is when I actually do wake before 11am and they smugly ask 'You wet the bed?'
To which I reply; 'Yeah, um, I had a bit of wee on myself, yes.'

So tonight I intend to break the cycle with a nasty 25 hours of wakeness resulting in a bedtime of 8pm and a hopefully reset body-clock. In this time I can play as many computer games and eat as much shit-from-the-fridge, and have as many kettle boilings that I like, because I'm being fucking productive.

Our Jenna

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 01:11:18 GMT

In recent months, blogging has unintentionally drifted far from the range of things that I consider 'stuff what I do'. So much so that my regular creative output has devolved into bi-sentential picture blogs and embedded youtube videos of Schizophrenic dogs. This is basically me pseudo-philosophically saying sorry for the lack of updates.
Naturally I find I write about interesting shit best when there's work I should be doing; and on this occasion, I can assure you, there is so much.

The event that spurred this thought was an inquisition into the singlehood of my male friends.

For what purpose wouldst one be interested in the array of dashing young suitors amongst my associates? I asked the inquirer, 'Ann' the cleaner.

'Ah, was askin' becuss our Jenna 'asn't got a boyfriend, and ah was thinkin, you know some lads around 20-21 what our Jenna could date.'

'Before you go, we want sum numbers'

BACKUP

'Jenna' is a 19 year old care worker who happened to be in the year below me at Newbold. Although I don't remember her at all. She left school at 16 and from what I can tell, like many girls wavered on the binary career decision of care or health & beauty, before trundling down junction A. Likely owns a frightening number of NOW compilations and doesn't know what a lentil is.

I could tell by Ann's mischievous smile that Jenna knew nothing about this indecent proposal, as of yet. Jenna's obliviousness to this makes me feel a little shitty for making such unsubstantiated presumptions. But you know, it's interesting. Fuck it.

Something Ann should probably realise about my friends is that they predominately consist of intellectually-aggressive, nihilists who habitually and cynically satirize the behaviour and culture of the common man as an inexhaustible source of amusement. And therefore for the sake of all that is tranquil, should ideally not associate with the public in any way. Don't be offended; this is why we get on so well.

The thought of involving some my friends with such a modal specimen of crazy frog, ice-pop cultivation causes me to violently fidget and wretch as my brain blasts through the awkward matrix of social incompatibility and misunderstanding.
But should it really? Probably not. We all have social skills to varying degrees. Be this the knack for turning every answer into a deeper question till it boils down to 'what the fuck are you doing with your life?' and generally hope the conversation takes direction before you collapse their ego from the inside, or pretending to be invariably interested in whatever they're saying until your growing inner boredom makes you loose track and they end up head butting you. We've all got our hidden aces.

So the brain splinter I couldn't quite place was ultimately the catastrophically lurid mess of social spastication that is life. It's just this one inquiry happened to set off this train of thought which left me cross-eyed and drooling profusely as I “um”'d and “well, it's just that er...”'d for 8 whole seconds at the equally confused woman.

I told Ann I'd think about it and assured her that she had a better chance of being clotheslined by a thalidomide child. (ooh, politikul')

So more to the point, if you're a single male in the Chesterfield area and fancy a romantic encounter with our Jenna, Get in touch and I'll hook you guys up. *wink*

Guitar Porn

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 15:52:45 GMT

Guess who gets to play with this sassy bitch this weekend.

I; The answer is I.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 04:52:35 GMT

My mobile telephone is rubbish. It has an sms inbox + outbox + draft capacity of 100.
Over the last few months I've been anal retentively not deleting the messages that make me giggle or smile or in some cases shit, some just because they tell a vague story, many are from bro fro anotha ho getting emotional whilst on drugs.
Here I will transcribe the best texts I've recieved in chronological order, names present when relevant and not for anonymity.

"It's not a working men's club, this means I can swear. Result" -Adam

"Cem on." -Adam (Ref: Big Train, Mark Heap in Sticko Extra Sketch)

"Hello my darling dav you n chris comin to the crown? Please say you will, I shall cry all night." -Stephie

"Where's ma niggas at?!" - Kris

"Awesome! Kris is drunk, it's funny, see you guys soon. can't wait :) love you like brothers from other mothers." -Stephie

"Just been talking about best friends with my sheffield posse and realised that I miss you a lot. I bloody love you Davio! (I am drunk, obv.)" - Adam

"I am. Very high. Right now. Love you!" - Adam

"You are just. So cool." - Adam

"Faster Rapings!"

"He's 26 likes big boobs and long fucks!" (Who doesn't, yanno?)

"My muscles hurt after the last adventure!"

"And yes, yes you did say lickable." (Most of this conversation is not posted.)

"Celebrity cob # 2 The Ron Jeremy: Just a lot of sausage and mayo." - Adam

"Celebrity cob # 3 The Miller: Top half soaked in dripping, massive lamb chop, no gayboy salad, served with a pint of stones and a twat 'raand t'ear 'ole" - Adam

"Celebrity cob ##5 That Lass From Lazy Town (or the jailbait) pinker than pink extra rare steak with Marie Rose sauce served with baby corn on the cob." - Adam

"That is an excelent idea... "Hearty Herbert" - Adam (we were texting fake ale names to each other)

"I think we should come up with some brief pretentious descriptions eg. "Godfrey's Weekend Treat" - Don't let the wife know about this little belter! Nice firm young body with plenty of punch for such a pale ale. Goes down eagerly after a little perserverance." - Adam (This is gold)

"Lacey does look scarily like Terry "The Otter" Nutkins, though,, to be fair." - Adam

"Dude, I'm mellow tonight. I would love to be stoned with you right now, I need my compadre to cheer me up." - Adam

"So your back this weekend? ;)" - Heather (I didn't correct her grammar)

"Thanks homeboy" - Si (It was his birthday.)

"REPLY! Also, fancy a drink in Chesterfield on the 22nd? That's when i back fo a couple of days. It's Simon's birthday today btw." - Tom (Miles ahead of him)

"Just been playing Sonic2 and rocking out to chemical plant zone. Got to mystic cave before I had to go to blasted work. SON OF A BITCH." -Tom

"The king, of iron fist ternament. Enter: The Tek" - Adam

"ken." - Adam

"U asleep? Am bored lol X" - Saucy Steph (Saved just because of the name, yanno?)

"Hello love. How are you feeling today.. Have you got a stinky hangover?" -Chris (I did. Don't think I replied)

"Okay so I just played the best gig of my life, 5 songs 30 minutes, 4 crazy chesterfield lads, completely sober, crowd loved us, hit every note, fucking magic." - Adam

"Theresa's ho" -Adam (Ridiculing a phonebook entry that I had, I lol'd)

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, you crazy mothers!" - Kris

"It's Chrissy, bitch" - Joel (reference http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h863nXDqCM0)

"How did you find this out? Facebook? Were you searching for people with stupid names beccause that is a right good idea." -Paul (On informing him that there was a person called Timothy Gaylard in existence.)

"Ur text last night was the icing on the cake of a night of strange txts. Just in front of "fancy going to the zoo? Sex?" - Tom (Another response to Timothy Gaylard.)

"Miller says he would like you to stop wearing clothes" - Lacey

"Well, I'm watching fry and laurie on DVD. Are you well?" - Si (being horrendously middle class)

"Just thought I'd let you know that you're my best friend and I love you more than I have loved any girl. I am also completely sober, you handsome, handsome bastard." - Adam (It had been a few weeks, it builds up)

"I hear rumors of a get together down your way. Explain!" - Tom (hasn't happened yet unfortunately)

"Davio would it be weird if I asked if you wanted to come to lough for the weekend some time or to meet up in sheff? x Hel" - Helena (this also unfortunately hasn't yet happened)

"GEH'TAAH'T O' MAH WORKSHYOP! Your blog was brilliant, by the way, you sexy devil-beast man." - (hmm, self referencing... also Ref: Mr. Street, Technician at Newbold Community School, and his restricted workshop. Response to: "SIMON GYANAH!!!")

"Touch my face." - Matt (I don't know what this means. Perhaps a quote. I still lol'd)

"Jane loves you (She is a slag) And it went through 'im" - Joel

"Yes, it's an extender!" Adam (Ref: I'm Alan Partridge) - Adam

"...You best kill me!" - Joel (Ref: Pulp Fiction: Marcellus Wallace whilst being punched repeatedly.)

"Oll-Right? It's like ... HE GAVE BIRTH TO HIM" -Joel (Ref: Quentin Tarantino on Sin City making of featurette.)

"How can I hate Women? My mum's one." - Adam (Ref: The Office - Chris Finch)

"P.s (love the nickname Krissy Broken Ribs)" - Phil (response to me addressing Kris as 'Krissy Broken-ribs' in a phonecall, who broke a rib during American Football practice, he was standing next to me at the time)

"Dav has anyone actually asked you down to Bangor this weekend? Because like, everyone's coming down for Witch's birthday. Can you Make it?" - Joel (No one had, I couldn't make it, I didn't go, bad times)

"Lol dude, I just got really high then ate loads of celery and hummous, then I put some old feeder on and rocked out like nobody's business" - Adam

"Hello. Tomorrow is my first 21st Birthday and 2 celebrate I'm having a little get together as you may already be aware. All who wish to attend predrinks at my abode 6ish otherwise meet at 10ish in font bar and then on to another location. Bring whoever & any questions ask, Pass this info on. Tom." - Tom (self explanatory, what you don't hear is that Tom didn't make it past the pre drinks at his place He drank a demonic pint of everything that resembled the enematic waste of a homeless person, and went to bed at about 10. We all went out to celebrate in his honour however.)

"You know the little train in queens park? Do you know who has an interview to drive it on monday? IS IT PAUL? I THINK IT'S PAUL!" - It's Paul

"Oh my god. I am so bad at drinking, I mean I have woken up with a bucket, 4 Glasses of water, a couple of other drinks, a headache, and no memory at all.." - Tom (on waking up after his epic failiure the night before. Everyone who drank from the Devil-pint threw up at some point)

"The 40 year old tampon." - Tom

"Teenage mutange ninja tampons" - Tom (obviously we were texting movie titles with keywords replaced with 'tampon' to each other. Reflective of our shared exceptional ingenuity, I later wrote 'I AM TAMPON' on his facebook.)

"Tavern today we aint been in ages." - Phil (The Tavern is the only place in Middlesbrough that regards us as regulars. We hadn't been in ages.)

"Hey did you get home okay? I didn't speak to you on sunday at all. Did you even beat sonic?" - Tom (I did make it home. And I did beat sonic, we were on the death egg, I did it in my first try, I must have been in the zone)

"Oh yeah. I forgot. You have no credit. Well, I may see you lature at the lettuce, or in the tortoise.. or even at your house! Oooo!" - Chris (I don't know what he means, but I lol'd)

"Hey did you guys feel the earthquake?" - Tom (In Manchester, I felt it, It woke me up and I thought someone was shaking my bed, I was angry.)

"What a bad nights sleep! the earthquake scared the crap out of me. did it wake you up too? The whole house shook" - Victoria

"Lol, you mental, scared the shit out of us lot it shook the house so hard it was horrible!x" (I told her I was building 'this massive house of cards'.)

"Fancygrabin a cuppa before the lecture I been up since 4pm yesterday and need something to hold me together." - Phil (we're becoming regulars at coffee houses, because that's where the pretty people are.)

"So pilled up right now! Eeeeee" - Adam (I lol'd)

"You are. The best person. Ever." - Adam (I assure you I'm not. Well, I suppose it is possible.)

"Guess who might be going to England in June!" - Stina (It's Stina, she might be.)

And that just about brings my Inbox to now.

Oooh one saved draft says...

"Pet penis names: Mr Uppercut."

It's been Epic.

Top 5...

Sat, 26 Jan 2008 13:48:25 GMT

Funny animal videos on youtube.

5.

When it cuts to slow-mo, that's the bit that gets me.

4.

That's a 720

3.

No one understands me.

2.

(00.08 - 00.22) = best sentence ever.

1.

Highlights (00.19-00.23), (00.34-00.36), (00.57-01.15)

/Edit
This dog is mental

Friday, January 18, 2008

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 13:56:23 GMT

Aside from Lacey pissing 615ml of piss, nothing particularly notable happened over the Christmas break, especially when contrasted with the shizzle that's gone down since I returned to 'M-bro', karaezy shizzle.

Top 5 Karaezy Shizzle

This first once doesn't really affect me but I needed a 5^th reasonably interesting event to make up my top 5. The K-bomb has managed to proudly get himself barred from two of the nearby nightspots for violent behaviour. Doubtless his actions were thoroughly self-justified and perhaps nationalistically evoked. But perhaps this is some elaborate ploy to cut down on the booze intake by systematically reducing the number of establishments that will give him any alcohol. Effortless.

Murders. Two of them, though technically one was thought to be suicide. But anyway, on the day of my return to the town, I was informed that there had been two domestic killings not 150 yards from my front door, on a street that T-junctions with mine. I did notice an abundant presence of 'rozzers' in the area when walking back to my box room late at night. And later noticed a collection of forecourt flowers outside the creepily labelled number 99.

I spent the next week believing that some serial killer was in the process of spiralling attacks around my house, though was later informed that the male of the two victims was found hanging, thus probably a suicide.

So presumably, a Middlesbrough local gets home drunk one night, beats his wife a little harder than usual then decides to top himself in regards to the impending consequences of what just happened.

Still a damn grim story but then it regrettably sort of makes sense when you consider the area I'm living in. I sort of feel safer knowing that I can greatly reduce the chances of being killed by simply not marrying some bloke from Borough.

Third on my list is the bomb scare that happened near one of the bars my former house mate is barred from, the Aussie themed 'Walkabout'. Pictures here.

They're saying bomb scare, but then I hear that the a 'controlled explosion' was involved, leading me to suggest that somebody tried to make a bomb.

I hate to point out the obvious observation that bombing Middlesbrough may ultimately be doing the nation a favour; it being regarded as UK's worst city, but then I just did. Also, it's a particularly shoddy attempt at terrorism if there is some genuine anti-establishment motive behind it. Which is another reason I doubt the communal opinion that 'some Arabs' are probably responsible. My guess would be, 'some twat'.

Chris and Kris's household have had problems with rats and mice for a while now, but recently discovered a ling since fried rotten rodent corpse inside their toaster and have likely been unwittingly munching on rat toast for weeks. Technically it may have been mouse toast I'm not sure, rat toast sort of has a ring to it. The curious rodent must have clambered into the appliance with the promise of the bountiful plateau of crumbs and seeds beneath, where it would have sat happily nibbling for days oblivious to it's impending doom by the unknowing hands of a peckish student. The unsettling thing is that the creature wouldn't have starved, it must have been alive and confused as a hefty slice of Hovis was plunged into the cage and stainless steel bars locked into place as the elements heat and the burning electric death commences.

Burning to death is a lot more interesting and a lot more unpleasant than it sounds. The elements in a toaster heat up the air around them to around 300*C depending on the setting, the elements themselves are closer to 1000 degrees. Hopefully the rodent was touching one of these elements and died from electrocution in a few seconds, it would otherwise die from extreme hyperthermia which isn't that nice. Singeing hair curls down to the blistering flesh, which crackles and spurts boiling lymph, every muscle will tighten to the extent at which they start to splinter the bones they're attached to, eyeballs will rupture and burst leaking viscous fluid, if the animal is lucky, at this point it will fall unconscious from the carbon monoxide inhaled combined with heatstroke. Otherwise the body will go into shock and burn faster due to the absence of blood flow caused by hypoxia, the brain begins to suffocate, the extreme pain would also release an explosion of neurochemicals and endorphins which cause fitting, numbness and gives an intense euphoria as the oxygen in the brain is slowly depleted.

Hey ho, at least it had a nice last meal.

Thought I'd finish on a positive. Those of you who were paying attention may have noticed when I said 'former house mate'. I have in fact relocated to a new house of awesome folk. A friend who also happens to be from Chesterfield, known as Noel (also Bowl), was having some kind of bizarre allergic reaction to staying in his room, and thus was sleeping on the downstairs sofa. The house itself is excellent, bills are inclusive, it's literally across the street from the uni and double bed motherfucker. But due to his condition Noel couldn't stay. I offered to swap and he jumped at the idea. The whole thing was over, contracts n'all in about three days. Moving out took a convoy of two cars one trip, back and forth. I bade my farewells to Rob, Kitch and Morgan. All I need to pick up now is my big bastard chair. I'll post pics of the house soon, my camera needs a chargin'.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Mon, 10 Dec 2007 13:29:26 GMT

Back when I was having a giggle at the combination of Engrish and pornography titles, I acquired an unexpected subscriber by the name of av_column. A probable tool for marketing asian vids to Xanga users, although I'm not sure how successfully. Anyway, this morning I may have discovered Rule 34 on Power Rangers, by the title of 'Lesbian Erotica Queen vs Abnormal Big Tits Moma Ranger'.

I'd like to point out the playful onomatopoeias on the back cover that give an authentic comic book aesthetic to the montage of tits and pvc.

FUFUFU...!!!
BiBiBiBiBiBi...!!
DOOOOOONSSS!!!!

Edit

YUSSS!

/Edit