Last ...

... monday I finally got around to attending a karate class. First time in ages due to injury and other stuff, mainly the opportunity to go nuts with luxury shopping and my girlfriend in Amsterdam. HoHum. Anyway, monday: Jerry Smit was there. He's good at what he does, impressively so. His lesson was very interesting. Honestly, if he taught anywhere near here I'd probably go see whether he has an opening for another student ... but there is one niggling little detail.

He looks like this:

http://www.geocities.co.jp/Hollywood/9028/port006.jpg

So, during his whole lesson I was distracted by thoughts about the Mummy Returns. I giggled. A lot. Got some funny looks ... I still managed to get out of there without saying things like: ... Ankh-Soon A'Moon!!

But it was a close call.

Also: New widget! Somewhere .... there ===>

Well ... a little higher, actually.

Currently I'm just taking it out for a spin. I'm kinda disappointed that itdoesn't play complete songs but that would probably have been a nightmare of humongous proportions. Oh well ...

Get this:

I train with Francisco because he has in all his ... enthousiasm accepted the offer for an MMA fight in Germany. So, I help him out on occassion. I get pummeled a bit and I get bruised but all in all the damage is rather restricted. So it was last sunday, at least. I had fun and it felt useful. Then afterwards I go swimming with my Sis and her family and I manage to nearly slip a couple of disks in my back and I manage to smash my elbow into some metal pole whilst decending a water slide.

Moral of this story: if you ever get offered the choice between swimming with family or MMA training choose the latter. It is less dangerous. You'll stay healthier longer. Trust me.

I ...

... read something just now about a Zen rock garden. And I just thought about how awesome it was that those monks get to rock out in their gardens. Idly wondering about what type of music they'd play and stuff. And then the actual meaning of the phrase hit me and I felt foolish. And a little sad. No yellow-robed headbangers.

Saaaad.

It's the 14th. Happy 14th, Suusje. It has something to do with love. Well, I still do.

Also:

I think I finally figured out why the jews never could have killed Jesus: they wouldn't have put I.N.R.I above his head but: For Sale, one slightly used would-be Messiah, with care and prayer ready for a second life.

The notion that all the jews somehow managed to kill 'our Lord' is fairly grievious anyway ... my dad wasn't even born, then. Or my mum.

I never quite got that. I thought crucifiction was a roman thing. So if you are going to hate anyone for that ... hate an Italian. And since most of those are catholic it gets to be nicely self referential.

What is Google Ads going to give me now?

I ...

... like Hielander. that was an interesting dinner, I have to say. Good food, intersting discussions, some nice music, me, steadily getting more and more plastered as the evening progressed on increasingly more expensive whiskey ...

http://www.schotsrestauranthielander.nl/

Bunnies.

Yes. On Bunnies.

We just put ours in the fresh snow for a bit just to see what she'd make of it.

Nada. Zip. Disappointment all around.

Usually, in our experience, bunnies are quite ... stupid. So ... they walk around for a bit. Then they discover, oh horror!, that they're ickle feet are wet. So they clean them. When that is done they walk in the snow for a bit. Thewn they discover that they'r feet are sort of wet. So ... they clean them ....

See where this is going?

Told you!

Steelers!

Oh ... headache.

In response to Dae ...

Yes. Bunnies are awesome fun. Today I cleaned their cages and they were very cute, ripping paper and running away and being bunny. So, yeah, they're fun.

As to the reli-ads ... it's indeed fun to see if we can manipulate Google to cough up something better. And to that end, taking you up on your suggestion:



Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies!

Here's ...

... another thing you shouldn't do, ever. Go to sleep, on the couch, wake up, see that it's 6-ish and there isn't any food in the house, decide to go shopping, put on your winterclothes and your ipod and with a half-sleepy head press play and then, crucially, increase the volume, you know ... mindlessly.

At least, I shouldn't do that.

Why?

Because the iPod continued to play the thing I had selected last: Kampfar. Now, I like Kampfar, but it's probably best if it's not to the first thing one hears post slumber. Fuck, but that hurt. I had to slowly work back up to that via Chet Baker and Marillion.

Superbowl sunday today. I think the Steelers will win. I hope that the Steelers win. Mainly because the opposing quarterback is a religious nut who takes his bible everywhere. I discussed sports and faith before, right? Let's just not go there. I'm curious as hell to see how it will all turn out. It will be great. It'll be fun. I hope Kurt Warner loses.

First though, I have to beat someone up. He asked for it. Literally. So ... my sunday is fixed. How about yours?