Was looking for my box of usb memory sticks. Found a pair of football boots and some washing line pegs.
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First league snooker match didn't go well. My handicap is far too low, so my opponent had a 28 point head start. It didn't help that I originally thought my handicap was higher and claimed the first two frames, only to be told that I'd lost due to the additional points. Cup match next week; get knocked out of that and then concentrate on the league.
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So you're essentially Forest 22 / 23 season?
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Pretty much. It didn't help that I thought my handicap was 14 points higher and so claimed the first two frames, only to be informed I was playing off 11. Having checked the website this morning, I was correct. Doesn't matter as I've come in halfway through a season. I'll do a Nuno next season.
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You should do an EM, call them all cunts on twitter and flob up a grolly in disgust next time they walk past.
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This could be awesome.
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Not if it fucking drives like one, it wont.
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Motion seconded.
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Really enjoyed my time off last week as we made mince pies which makes me a Master Baker.
Raked all the leaves in time for pick up which makes me a Master Raker.
And am celebrating 28 years of marriage in January which makes me a Master...
Chicago: Wanker.
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Went downstairs because I remembered I had to take my washing out of the washing machine, and set it to dry. Was delighted to find that I hadn't actually put it to wash yet. So I didn't have to bother.
Now that's what I call lazy.
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Sounds like a good name for a compilation album containing moments where you really can't be arsed. You'd reach Now That's What I Call Lazy 37 in no time. However, it would mean keeping some sort of spoken diary, which I'm guessing you'd be too lazy to do.
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I used to tell Bob what I was doing. So he could tell me where I was supposed to be. It's the closest I've ever got to keeping a diary.
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Or fails to start like one on cold mornings. Early eighties winter mornings were punctuated by cars failing to start. My dad had a MK1 Escort and used to leave it on charge all night when he was on a 6-2 shift. It still didn't start half time.
It finally gave up the ghost on the way back from Devon, whereupon he replaced it with an Orange Princess that broke down the day he got it. Cars were quality in those days.
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I took my car to well known high street mechanics to get brakes checked as getting a squeely noise form one of them, they don't have the correct software to diagnose the callipers! I will have to take it back tomorrow when the 'Master Mechanic' will be there and he may be able to do it from his laptop.
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We had a purple princess (not a euphemism). It ran on 1:1 parts petrol and oil. We kept food in the car whenever we went anywhere, because impromptu picnics were regular. As a result of it ceasing to function. It were proper shite. We then had a New Rover 2600. That were shite too. The first car we had that actually could be relied on to work, was a mercedes benz...but that had equipment levels that would make a lutherian church blush.
You could get an obd2 bluetooth connector, and some (free available) software, and do it yourself.
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Call me super cautious but that wouldn't do much to instill my confidence in their requisite competence to be fiddling about with something fairly integral to safe operation.
