h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

This comes in various sections due to length...

Writting
I've been thinking about writing a lot at the moment but I cant seem to do it. Yes after writing 50 odd pages detailing the ins and outs of an entire continent I have writers block.
What makes it even more problematic is that I've decided to help kick start a second RPG, and on top of that I've also thought about abandoning the Feburary release (one month late..) and postponeing the lot till either someone asks to play, or until its totally and utterly finished. This may or may not have anything to do with the Assassins revamp Anthea is doing (it pays to listen to the tremors).
Its big enough that I've forgotten half the locations, and I still have to do immense amounts of linking that at the moment is knocking me sick (it took me an entire day to write the appendix, and even thats incomplete). Ah well I would start these things. Besides Howard and Crom would be most displeased if I stopped now.

Painting
After nearly a decade of painting little men (frequently known as stupid toys by many family members) just netted me 35 quid profit (50 quid was the final price, although they cost 15 to buy). Stick that in your cake and bake it you bunch of buggers!
What does this mean for me now? Well using the money from that I bought another box of men - this time for 10 quid. If I sell them for 60 quid (as opposed to 50) I'll have made a fair ammount. This is only the beginning when it comes to AD's brushworks!

Lord Of The Rings
Like all good friendships me and my love drifted apart recently. I dont know why this is, its just the way its happened. Then she came along.
The woman with the tricksy giggle and the purple coat. The one who showed me a truely great site to go on and enjoy. Yes Ive found my LOTR home and it is good. This lovely lady must be worshipped - Crom demands it so, and the goblins are stabbing me with spears. So I emailed her. Hell if I've found LOTR nirvana (how I hate the band, if only for the million hoodies and the 'its so sad he died' people it created) and rekindled the interest because of her she deserves the precious... yes.. I may buy her a Guinness...

Fashion
Hmmm odd one this. With my ill gotten gains (EMA bonus! mwahahaha! Precious poundses), I journed off to manchester and did something rather unexpected. I went clothes shopping.
Surprisingly, thats the first time Ive properly shopped for clothes. Its just not the thing to do. Pair of jeans, jumper, coat, trainners - thats me done. No brand names required, no exaggerated price tag.
So for some bizarre reason I ended up with another jumper, a new belt (which has broken, but was only a pound so who cares) and a hoodie. The first one I have ever owned. Its quite good and comfy, although black bits on my head was annoying.
So from here I decided, quite casually, to go to Afflecks palace for a gander. Now this was only meant to be a short trip as I needed some spray paint. However it turned into something marvellous.
Now I like big coats. Dont ask me why I just do. Big coats and me just get along. So when I spied a British army great coat I emmidately looked at the price tag (Ive contracted the bargain hunter gene from caroline). 25 quid. Lovely jubly says I but alas it was a small, and as yet I am still a medium. Undertered, I alerted the shopkeep ('Oi mate') and informed him of my perilous predicament ('Got a medium one?'). Alas he did not have a medium British, but he had a medium french...
Now theres something about me and the french. Its like me and Americans (Watched Freignheit 9/11 once again on channel 4. Id started wondering about whether I had an reason to dislike americans and then I watched it. Why did i ever doubt?). Something doesnt sit right there for some reason and I dont know why. As such I keep my distance from the French and all things french. There strange bread products, that poor quality beer, there hats. No french. But this coat was gorgeous, and a bargain. And thus the deal was done and I sold out. I also bought a rather lovely badge (The red star of Communism, that household favorite icon) that now adorns the coat and its surprisingly ace for a frenchie product. It reaches down to my ankles, isnt too hot or cold, is nice and heavy, but comfortable to move in. Well done French coat maker person where ever you are. I may even start to like the french...

Holidays
Im trying to plan a holiday to Butlins/pontins for the summer on the cheap (works out quite disgustingly cheap actually). So far only simon has agreed to go - and that was only after I told him he could go on the dole if he couldnt get a job. Gina seems in two minds about it but I dont know what to do at the moment. I wish she would come but she doesnt think it'll work.

Games Day 2005
This should probably be under painting but I cant be bothered. I've begun assembling my entery - a bizarre group of individuals (2 so far) that tickled my fancy to be built. However I currently have three ideas for enteries. The first is a techpreist and his cronnies of servators. The second is a funky diorama with flashy lights. And third is the big one - A beastman. But not any onld beastman. A foot high beast man, large enough to have every single hair fragment painted on him. I'm waiting till I get him before I start planning this Mammoth task - at 50 quid its not something I can mess up on and get away with.

Friends
Amy has vanished into the ether with Karl, Gina is busy with work, Stacey is going to drive me mad (theres always one more problem, one thats slightly worse then yours... do you know her uncle died on a mission to mars */exaggeration*), I have been crap to vicki and not spoke to her since new year.

Sister stuff
There was always going to be a point with this where it was going to get close to the knife edge.
My dad is currently non the wiser about me speaking to Christina.
My dads wife, Caroline, has a daughter (sarah) whose 11/12 years old.
Christina is also 11.
Events have transpired that have made Sarah and Christina the best of friends...
I knew of this of course, having spoke to her a few nights ago.
*Mark smacks self in head for not phoning sisters tonight*
Dad phones up 'eh you'll never guess who sarahs best mate is...'
No dad... who could it possibly be.
Now it all depends on what Christina's told Sarah , and what Sarah's told/telling Caroline.
Slowly slowly catch a goblin....

My nemesis
I, after 6 months of searching, have two new nemesiseses to thwart! I've always had a nemesis. Its a necessary part of life to have a focus for hatred in my life in a physical, and there for mortal form which could accidentally get ran over.
Now these nemesis' arent the hate focus' of the last ones, of no. There just people who need to be shown my mentalitiy.
The Library man (not even the teachers know his name), who i've decided is called Phil, has sent out numerous requests for a late library book. How late? Well at two years this February the 11th, it is officially the latest book in all of Pendleton college's history. Fees would have come to (by my guesstimation) ten whole pounds. Now even though Im flushed with cash, Im tight, so I promptly left the book on his desk and in my green great coat i quickly shimmied off into the evening.
Bill Bailey, my tutor, has also become my unwitting nemesis. Oh yes, is he for it.
Key skills communication is a Pi$$ poor attempt to give people an extra qualification. Its worth less then an GCSE...
I, with my English A-level, proudly proclaims this to Bill with a grin of triumph (I lost the battle to have general studies removed. Damn). He however, shook his head. 'Nay, you still have to do it'. Curses I thought, until he made a vital error that will be his undoing.
'The essay must be written in a language native to the British isles. Gaelics native (and indeed, it is acceptable). So I've decided to do the essay in Gaelic. Whats the essay? Why what else, an essay on the languages of Tolkien (technically also native to the British isles, with plenty of speakers - probably has more speakers then Manxs has). I'm also feeling rather communist at the moment so with the aid of babel fish I intend to whack the lot into Russian as an appendix. Why? Well because he asked for it, and he do douteth the man of big coats and short hair!
Some of you may have noticed that I speak neither Gaelic, Sindarrin, or Russian. Well thats true, and having investiagted Babelfish only has Russian.
If anyone has any helpful hints on finding Gaelic language courses online i'd be very grateful.



And now I go. Theres still plenty to write but my fingers are numb and I have a feeling im missing third rock from the sun.
Night all