
Beard Growth - Day 9
Originally uploaded by escaped.monkey
And on the seventh day, I rested and grew a beard. A hella kick-ass beard. My first, and to date my last, beard. My hair was pretty good too.
My wonderful photoblog, or 'phblog' if you want a shit new phrase. One photo taken every day for a year. At least I hope so, I might get hit by a truck in March or something. Find the rest of my photos here.

And on the seventh day, I rested and grew a beard. A hella kick-ass beard. My first, and to date my last, beard. My hair was pretty good too.

Amoxicillin, making alcohol trendy and dangerous again.

My Double Fine T-shirt, actually bought from Double Fine with my own money. And here's me, effectively paying their wages with my stellar reviews of Pyschonauts.

Some antibiotics. This was the worst sickness I ever did sick in the whole of the year. I could barely swallow. I remember walking to Tesco, and trying to swallow, and it was cold, and I could barely swallow. Eurgh, it was horrible. I love swallowing. Even if it's just nothing. Swallow swallow swallow.
Enjoy it while you can.

It was raining a lot, and I'm fairly certain that on this day I was feeling incredibly ill. How I managed to keep taking photographs is genuinely astounding, I must be some sort of amaze-o-person.

This was a gift from Peter for letting him stay at my house for a week while he found somewhere to live. It's a very good book, probably my favourite book. Ever?

It's been two months since I've updated the blog, oh no. I'll struggle to remember what the bollocking hell I was doing on each day. I mean, here's a comparison between two manuals. What the blathering feck was I up to?
Nobody knows!

The first time I've read a book without first reading the blurb on the back, and it's better for it.

You may often wonder what my fingerprint looks like. Well now you don't have to. Here it is.

Peter and I went to the Barbican Centre to see a play called A Disappearing Number. It was good, and we spent a lot of time laughing at "cultured people" and doing funny voices at them.
This is one of the three residential towers at the Barbican. The others are here and here.

This is Will Porter, pretending to be the Spy from Team Fortress 2, pretending to be Tim Edwards.

A souvenir for a friend bought in Seattle, the home of Boeing! I forgot to give it to him though. Crapola.

This phone is so great. It's got everything on it. Emails. Ringtones.
Emails.

Taken on the train back to London with Tom. This is Shoreham, and it's generally not that nice looking. Once back in London we visited Guy, Fran and Jess's new flat, which didn't smell as much like shit as they said it did.

Tim and I went to the Shoreham Air Show, where we saw a terrible plane crash in which the pilot died. That sort of made us feel shit for the rest of the day.
We saw Superbad in the evening, it was alright.

This Friday marked the beginning of The Final Weekend of Fun with Tim Before He Goes To Exeter. We went to Wetherspoon's, and then to Barney's, and then to Tim's, where Tim did cartwheels all the way down his street.
We watched Saving Private Ryan.

One of our many local after-work pubs. This one has a great dog who sits about the place.

"I don't know about you, but that letter J over there is really starting to freak me out."
Oh Washington, you crack me up.

Plucked up the courage to take my camera out of the hotel room, and went to buy some clothes at Macy's. Look at me, buying clothes from Macy's!

This is where I spent most of my time in Seattle. I watched seven episodes of Hannah Montana. There was some sort of marathon or something. I won't tell my friends this.
No really, 'working' all day and being too tired to do anything in the evening is what America is all about. Especially in Bellevue where there's nothing to do.

Jetlag woke me up at 3am, so I generally spent a few hours each day dancing in my room to some of my dopest beats until the sun came up.

And then, like it was the sanest thing in the world, I went to Seattle.

Possibly the largest spider ever to have existed. It was no match for me and my glass/paper combo though.

This path through the forest next to my house is pretty scary at night. No amount of rape whistles will save you.

Peter found his new flat today, and it's furnished with some really expensive furniture. Staggeringly so. He's pretty pleased with it. That plastic bag on the table contains Peter's used underwear.
I thought they ruined the ambience slightly.