Politics..... politics politics politics... the word just exudes a sense of dread and irritation. Well, it does for me anyway.
Todays rant will be short and sweet after the rant about Prometheus. Quite simply, Mr Cameron has decided that within his term of office, he will decide whether we, the UK, will remain in the EU. Well good for him. But what people don't realise is that if we leave the EU we will end up paying more import/export tax if not another tax on top of that for it passing through the EU.
I don't care. Either way, I am still jobless, skint and doomed to be in debt until my mid 30's and according to this regime, I am a what can only be described as a leech on the system. >.> despite the fact I am actively looking for work unlike a majority of those on the welfare system.
ANYWAY... to get to my point..... as another said to me 'if we do leave the EU, I hope we move somewhere warmer'.
The voices and I agree that should we leave the EU to fend for ourselves... we will be leaving the safety net and forced to depend upon ourselves and imports.... lets move somewhere warmer.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Prometheus is not a Sci-Fi film
I am a scientist. A Nerd. A freak. I love labs and dissections and playing with chemicals and doing stuff with a Bunsen Burner that isn't recommended in the User Manual.
But after watching the film Prometheus I was upset. How can that film possibly be classified as science fiction?! There were so many basic lab protocols that begged to be observed... like for instance when they first found the head of the 'Engineer' in the temple.]
Firstly, you wouldn't touch it. You don't know what bacteria there are, whether they are harmful, if it has acid for blood, etc. Secondly, they took no pictures, they have no photographic evidence (I don't count video) for proof, no drawings (again, schematics don't count).
Then when rushing to get out of the temple after things happen (I won't say what because I don't want to ruin the plot for those who have yet to see this film), they freeze the head and put it in what I can only describe as a bin bag... ok, freezing I can understand, keeps the sample in a literal frozen state to stop any biological changes.... but why in a non-airtight bag??? HELLO CONTAMINANTS!!!
Not only this, but they still don't know anything about it, leave the sample where it is, its been dead a few years it'll still be dead tomorrow, it won't go anywhere and you don't know how/why it died.
Next is what really pisses me off. YOU DO NOT TAKE AN UNKNOWN CONTAMINANT ONTO A SEALED SHIP. EVER. PERIOD. NO.
No tests, no rules. Lets just take the dead head onto our ship and try to kill ourselves.
So the French woman takes the head onto the ship for dissecting. Yeh, ok. Great move.
And now for my favourite bit, and I really do LOVE this bit. The French bimbo and the Scot decide to sterilize the sample.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAH
If you arent following where I am going with this, keep reading, I will lay it out.
If you sterilize a sample, you basically kill off anything living including bacteria, microbes, most viruses (although I am not a virologist I can't be sure), but you also remove any point of taking dermatological (skin) samples from the head - there is nothing living to look at, its all dead. Not only by sterilizing the sample do you kill off the bacteria, but you also damage nerve cells, muscle cells, brain cells because to sterilize something 90% of the time you have to expose the item to extreme high heat - google an Autoclave, these are used for sterilizing medical equipment. I do believe in the film they use some sort of gaseous chemical, I would assume to poison the bacteria they go by the fact it is probably aerobic and use carbon monoxide/dioxide. This still leaves everything dead - muscles are probably so atrophied (dead) they look like carvings. SO STICKING AN ELECTRICAL CONDUCTOR INTO THE BRAIN WILL NOT MAKE IT MOVE. EVER. ESPECIALLY IF ITS BEEN DEAD THAT LONG. ... except if it is a zombie in which case its virally animated, which is different.
Film carries on, blah blah, dead things move, doors open up, cryogenesis exists, blah blah, everyone dies.
I am so pissed at whoever did the scientific advising on this film, because quite frankly Ridley Scott got mugged. It makes me shocked that they even bothered to call it a sci-fi because it bears no relation TO ANY FORM OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH/ARCHAEOLOGY/GEOLOGY/BIOLOGY/PATHOLOGY OR EVEN STUPIDITY CLAUSE SAFETY.
The voices and I agree, this was a shitty film, with a barebones story and bad scientific practice. We do not recommend it.
But after watching the film Prometheus I was upset. How can that film possibly be classified as science fiction?! There were so many basic lab protocols that begged to be observed... like for instance when they first found the head of the 'Engineer' in the temple.]
Firstly, you wouldn't touch it. You don't know what bacteria there are, whether they are harmful, if it has acid for blood, etc. Secondly, they took no pictures, they have no photographic evidence (I don't count video) for proof, no drawings (again, schematics don't count).
Then when rushing to get out of the temple after things happen (I won't say what because I don't want to ruin the plot for those who have yet to see this film), they freeze the head and put it in what I can only describe as a bin bag... ok, freezing I can understand, keeps the sample in a literal frozen state to stop any biological changes.... but why in a non-airtight bag??? HELLO CONTAMINANTS!!!
Not only this, but they still don't know anything about it, leave the sample where it is, its been dead a few years it'll still be dead tomorrow, it won't go anywhere and you don't know how/why it died.
Next is what really pisses me off. YOU DO NOT TAKE AN UNKNOWN CONTAMINANT ONTO A SEALED SHIP. EVER. PERIOD. NO.
No tests, no rules. Lets just take the dead head onto our ship and try to kill ourselves.
So the French woman takes the head onto the ship for dissecting. Yeh, ok. Great move.
And now for my favourite bit, and I really do LOVE this bit. The French bimbo and the Scot decide to sterilize the sample.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAH
If you arent following where I am going with this, keep reading, I will lay it out.
If you sterilize a sample, you basically kill off anything living including bacteria, microbes, most viruses (although I am not a virologist I can't be sure), but you also remove any point of taking dermatological (skin) samples from the head - there is nothing living to look at, its all dead. Not only by sterilizing the sample do you kill off the bacteria, but you also damage nerve cells, muscle cells, brain cells because to sterilize something 90% of the time you have to expose the item to extreme high heat - google an Autoclave, these are used for sterilizing medical equipment. I do believe in the film they use some sort of gaseous chemical, I would assume to poison the bacteria they go by the fact it is probably aerobic and use carbon monoxide/dioxide. This still leaves everything dead - muscles are probably so atrophied (dead) they look like carvings. SO STICKING AN ELECTRICAL CONDUCTOR INTO THE BRAIN WILL NOT MAKE IT MOVE. EVER. ESPECIALLY IF ITS BEEN DEAD THAT LONG. ... except if it is a zombie in which case its virally animated, which is different.
Film carries on, blah blah, dead things move, doors open up, cryogenesis exists, blah blah, everyone dies.
I am so pissed at whoever did the scientific advising on this film, because quite frankly Ridley Scott got mugged. It makes me shocked that they even bothered to call it a sci-fi because it bears no relation TO ANY FORM OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH/ARCHAEOLOGY/GEOLOGY/BIOLOGY/PATHOLOGY OR EVEN STUPIDITY CLAUSE SAFETY.
The voices and I agree, this was a shitty film, with a barebones story and bad scientific practice. We do not recommend it.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
according to dating websites, there are no other fish in the sea!
When I was about 16, Facebook was in its baby stages, myspace was officially OLD, so naturally I migrated and joined every app I possibly could to fill out my 'page'... I recently rediscovered an older app called 'Are You Interested?'
whereby the basic of most basic principles is applied. There is a picture of you, a picture of a guy, if you like the guy's pic and he likes yours, you match. whoopee. When I went to Uni, I think I probably updated my location or something and it just stuck at Portsmouth.
Except now theyve upgraded just a slight ....HUGE amount. Now they can send you automated messages like 'What's your favourite movie', 'What is currently on your Spotify list', ' Would you like to go to the movies with me' or my personal grammatical failure favourite 'Who wants to go to a bar and hang?'.... I made the mistake of checking my inbox and it was full..... over 450 automated messages from complete sodding random men from around the world and I mean THE WORLD... including Kazakhstan which until bloody Borat came out I didn't even know existed let alone had internet capabilities.

But by now I am curious, so I change my location by to...(insert home location here) and am HORRIFIED to discover that not only are my first 100 results all guys I know, they are mostly guys I went to school with and thought were complete knobs 4 years ago and I havent changed my mind!
And now the brilliance of the upgrade comes in, because not only can I see that my 'sea' has now shrunk, it has shrunk to include the 'friends of friends' I dont even like, so now my sea is full of idiots, twats and best bud accomplicies. Christ I really am doomed!
WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE GENTLEMEN!?
WHAT HAPPENED TO ROMANCE AND FLOWERS AND DANCING?
If anyone out there knows please get in touch, this Dead Sea imagery may be morose but I am damned if I am settling for less than a little romance. Good grief, I can't believe I am saying this, SOMEONE FIND ME A GENTLEMEN!!!
The Voices and I agree that the sea is full of dead fish.
Monday, January 14, 2013
survival of the fittest... died out.
I have a mentor in life, a hero, a god (other than Darth Vader), his name is Charles Darwin, the man who coined the term 'Survival of the Fittest', which for anyone who was brought up in a very small, windowless box, would understand that basically if you aren't well enough adapted for the environment you live in, you won't breed and have babies and pass on your genetics to the next generation. (wow, one sentence and I can already see at least 2 Star Wars/Trek references and more to come, with a prevailing wind heading in the direction of TARDIS).
To the point of todays blog, I shall arrive at hastily for I am simply going to state this and move on.
With the general updating and evolution of the technological era that we are living in, the stupidity of people has been compensated for in such a way that idiots are now the most common form of human. I now rename them, Homo Stultior/Bardus (Human Idiot/Stupid) for we do not deserve the name Sapien any longer - Google tells me that sapien is Latin for wisdom..uh huh.
The reason for todays rant is simple.... I drive a van, not a massive van but a medium sized Ford Transit equivalent. When my van is coming toward you at 30mph you do not stand in the middle of the road hoping I will move around you, nor am I going to slow down, nor am I going to stop and let you cross when it would in fact be more dangerous for me to do so due to the ice on the road and the fact that traffic is moving swiftly. You are on MY road, there is a PEDESTRIAN CROSSING purposefully built for you 100yards down the road.
No, the idiot chose to stand in front of my van. In the middle of the road. On a dual carriageway.
And then tried to walk in front of me.
My response - nothing
Tries to carry on walking
My response - nothing
Nearly walks in front of car in next lane over
My response - laughter
*Sigh*, some people do not really deserve the luck that is granted to them. Then again, I can not say I am one who does not deserve what I get, I too do stupid shit on a frequent basis, although not usually involving traffic, thats just mortally stupid.
I tried to go running after suffering anaphalatic shock, eventually I settled for 5hours shopping on an empty stomach and no painkillers/steroids.... I went missing from a ward for 4 hours after major surgery because I was bored (ironically, I found the morgue and turned back), I went swimming with a chest infection, I got the flu/bronchitis and went to the beach in a snowstorm........ my stupidity tends to run to the theme of 'I'm sick, lets run it off'.
Hell, if I am well enough to be standing up, I am well enough to be doing something. Man-flu... who bothers?!
So, this weeks calender includes - full allergy testing, 30 lengths of the local swimming pool, job-center, kill a few idiots, cleaning, more doctors, die of snow exhaustion (the apparent death of a normal human being through overhearing the same piece of news via social media that it is snowing and we are all going to die). On that note, snow.... should be killing off plenty of idiotic people who can not care for themselves - babies, small children and the elderly not included
The voices and I agree that Mr Charles Darwin, may you rest in peace, your survival of the fittest theory has died.
Monday, January 07, 2013
there are officially no good doctors left
I'm going to rant. I'm allowed to rant today and I'm going to rant aout the NHS and how shitty they are, so readers I give you leave to read these opening lines and decide you dont care, just this once, but I need to rant.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
4 years now I have had an ongoing stomach complaint that basically leaves me in absolute agony feeling like someone has gotten a hold of my stomach and is giving it a chinese burn by twisting and twisting it and then leaning on it with the heel of their hand. Its horrid and it lasts for days. It feels like the human equivalent of horse colic (twisted gut).
And over the last 4 years I have gone from doctor to doctor to consultant to doctor to consultant and back with varying results from IBS, gastritis, inflamation, neuralgya (its in my head) to super sensitive stomach muscles that need antidepressants.
I have had tests involving tubes down my throat to my stomach, more ultrasounds than a woman pregnant with octuplets, blood tests, dietry tests and more. I have had more people feel my stomach than I even want to count.
Needless to say, nothing has worked and four years on and I am still in a helluva lot of pain.
- Ranitidine, Omeprazole, Esomeprazole, something beginning with L, something beginning with D, Gaviscon, Buscopan, Amytriptaline, etc etc.
The only thing that actually did anything is I found out that my body rejects Omeprazole and esomeprazole and gives me the vom. Yeah, great -.-
So when I had another 'attack' 2 days before xmas I refused point blank to go to hospital, I sat it out with a big ass hot water bottle, baths, limited food intake, limited water intake - what I did drink was warm (not hot or cold as that seems to make it worse). The hardest part is not taking any painkillers, quite simply because they won't have any effect and they just sit in my stomach not dissolving properly because I havent eaten ...
Can't sleep because most movement changes how my stomach is sitting and sets it off again, can't move because it hurts more, can't get comfortable, usually I've been woken up by the pain in the middle of the night so I'm tired and bad tempered. I am an all round ball of pain and anger.
So last night... or early this morning whichever you prefer... at 5am I got my morning wake up call and so my day started. I'm sitting in bed, on the edge, I'm pacing the room, kneeling on the floor and nothing is making a blind bit of difference. By 7:30am my dad is up, I'm in tears and I can't take it anymore, its worse that usual and I give in. Take me to hospital.
By 8:15am I'm in A and E at Queens (yes, the same hospital that woman from Hornchurch just died because of). By half 10, I have finally been seen by triage and sent to urgent care. Good, someone believes me how bad this is. And now for the crux of the problem and what sent me into stratospheric fury.
I am called by the doctor who obviously can not read as I am announced as Shane Hetternen, which I correct loudly. As he is examining me hes pressing on the sorest section of my stomach which I am trying very hard not to yell at. He then rams the stethoscope down my shirt without warning me and listens to my chest before using the bp machine to tell me my heart rate is high (of course it is, I AM IN PAIN). He then looks at me and says what medication have you tried, so I give him the list, all of it, specifying the problems I have with Omeprazole and the fact nothing else works and I have tried them all long term. There is silence. He then comes out with 'well lets stick you on Buscopan and then you need to go see your GP because I can't do anything for you, maybe he can sort something for you better because he knows your case'. I'm astounded. Literally speechless for a minute. My dad is staring at him because he has no idea what this doctor has just said to make me so stunned.
'But I have just sat here and said Buscopan doesnt work on me, I refuse to waste my money on medication that doesnt work and I know doesnt work on me, can't you give me soemthing else?'
'No no, thats the best we've got. I'm not about to give you morphine'
'I am not asking for morphine! I just want something that is likely to work!'
'Well I can prescribe buscopan injections you give yourself'
'Are you not hearing me?! I AM IN PAIN. BUSCOPAN DOES NOT WORK.'
*he writes a prescription* ' here is a prescription for 28days worth of buscopan, take it to the pharmacy'
*I leave and explain to dad that basically I have been told to go to my GP, given meds that wont work and that I am about 3 minutes away from bursting into tears again*
We go to the pharmacy and wait for my prescription, when I am called I find that I have been given Ranitidine (another non-worker) for 5 days, I ask the pharmacist to show me the prescription again, sure enough, the prat of a doctor has written me up for this new drug and not the other one and for 5 days as opposed to the 28 he told me.
I am literally too pissed off to even bother complaining.
I get home and get my mum to ring my doctor knowing full well if I talk to the receptionist, I will cry. I hear her arguing saying that there is never any point ringing at 9am the next day as the appointments are already gone. I snap, I grab the phone and say 'Listen to me, I have been up since 5am in severe pain, I have spent 3 hours in A and E to be told to go see my GP and given medication that will not work, I AM TIRED, I AM SORE AND I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT. THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR 4 YEARS AND I THINK THATS LONG ENOUGH.' and burst into tears and give the phone back to mum. I now have to turn up tomorrow and hope that my doctor will see me.
I do not have much hope that tomorrow is going to improve my mood, I like my GP, but I know that sooner or later he is going to retire and I will be stuck with the female idiot or the old doctor who refuses to retire and doesnt know his arse from his elbow and has already fucked up once and resulted in my major surgery when I was 18. I do not trust either of them.
I am doomed.
The voices and I agree that we are doomed, the NHS is doomed and there will be no good doctors left in the world by 2012.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
4 years now I have had an ongoing stomach complaint that basically leaves me in absolute agony feeling like someone has gotten a hold of my stomach and is giving it a chinese burn by twisting and twisting it and then leaning on it with the heel of their hand. Its horrid and it lasts for days. It feels like the human equivalent of horse colic (twisted gut).
And over the last 4 years I have gone from doctor to doctor to consultant to doctor to consultant and back with varying results from IBS, gastritis, inflamation, neuralgya (its in my head) to super sensitive stomach muscles that need antidepressants.
I have had tests involving tubes down my throat to my stomach, more ultrasounds than a woman pregnant with octuplets, blood tests, dietry tests and more. I have had more people feel my stomach than I even want to count.
Needless to say, nothing has worked and four years on and I am still in a helluva lot of pain.
- Ranitidine, Omeprazole, Esomeprazole, something beginning with L, something beginning with D, Gaviscon, Buscopan, Amytriptaline, etc etc.
The only thing that actually did anything is I found out that my body rejects Omeprazole and esomeprazole and gives me the vom. Yeah, great -.-
So when I had another 'attack' 2 days before xmas I refused point blank to go to hospital, I sat it out with a big ass hot water bottle, baths, limited food intake, limited water intake - what I did drink was warm (not hot or cold as that seems to make it worse). The hardest part is not taking any painkillers, quite simply because they won't have any effect and they just sit in my stomach not dissolving properly because I havent eaten ...
Can't sleep because most movement changes how my stomach is sitting and sets it off again, can't move because it hurts more, can't get comfortable, usually I've been woken up by the pain in the middle of the night so I'm tired and bad tempered. I am an all round ball of pain and anger.
So last night... or early this morning whichever you prefer... at 5am I got my morning wake up call and so my day started. I'm sitting in bed, on the edge, I'm pacing the room, kneeling on the floor and nothing is making a blind bit of difference. By 7:30am my dad is up, I'm in tears and I can't take it anymore, its worse that usual and I give in. Take me to hospital.
By 8:15am I'm in A and E at Queens (yes, the same hospital that woman from Hornchurch just died because of). By half 10, I have finally been seen by triage and sent to urgent care. Good, someone believes me how bad this is. And now for the crux of the problem and what sent me into stratospheric fury.
I am called by the doctor who obviously can not read as I am announced as Shane Hetternen, which I correct loudly. As he is examining me hes pressing on the sorest section of my stomach which I am trying very hard not to yell at. He then rams the stethoscope down my shirt without warning me and listens to my chest before using the bp machine to tell me my heart rate is high (of course it is, I AM IN PAIN). He then looks at me and says what medication have you tried, so I give him the list, all of it, specifying the problems I have with Omeprazole and the fact nothing else works and I have tried them all long term. There is silence. He then comes out with 'well lets stick you on Buscopan and then you need to go see your GP because I can't do anything for you, maybe he can sort something for you better because he knows your case'. I'm astounded. Literally speechless for a minute. My dad is staring at him because he has no idea what this doctor has just said to make me so stunned.
'But I have just sat here and said Buscopan doesnt work on me, I refuse to waste my money on medication that doesnt work and I know doesnt work on me, can't you give me soemthing else?'
'No no, thats the best we've got. I'm not about to give you morphine'
'I am not asking for morphine! I just want something that is likely to work!'
'Well I can prescribe buscopan injections you give yourself'
'Are you not hearing me?! I AM IN PAIN. BUSCOPAN DOES NOT WORK.'
*he writes a prescription* ' here is a prescription for 28days worth of buscopan, take it to the pharmacy'
*I leave and explain to dad that basically I have been told to go to my GP, given meds that wont work and that I am about 3 minutes away from bursting into tears again*
We go to the pharmacy and wait for my prescription, when I am called I find that I have been given Ranitidine (another non-worker) for 5 days, I ask the pharmacist to show me the prescription again, sure enough, the prat of a doctor has written me up for this new drug and not the other one and for 5 days as opposed to the 28 he told me.
I am literally too pissed off to even bother complaining.
I get home and get my mum to ring my doctor knowing full well if I talk to the receptionist, I will cry. I hear her arguing saying that there is never any point ringing at 9am the next day as the appointments are already gone. I snap, I grab the phone and say 'Listen to me, I have been up since 5am in severe pain, I have spent 3 hours in A and E to be told to go see my GP and given medication that will not work, I AM TIRED, I AM SORE AND I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT. THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR 4 YEARS AND I THINK THATS LONG ENOUGH.' and burst into tears and give the phone back to mum. I now have to turn up tomorrow and hope that my doctor will see me.
I do not have much hope that tomorrow is going to improve my mood, I like my GP, but I know that sooner or later he is going to retire and I will be stuck with the female idiot or the old doctor who refuses to retire and doesnt know his arse from his elbow and has already fucked up once and resulted in my major surgery when I was 18. I do not trust either of them.
I am doomed.
The voices and I agree that we are doomed, the NHS is doomed and there will be no good doctors left in the world by 2012.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
a new beginning is not necessarily a new beginning
Auld Lang Syne is the symbol for the start of the new year in the UK as far as I know - although in my house its usually Jools Holland shouting 'HOOTENANNY!' which in my opinion is just as good =)

But one has to ask themselves, just whats exactly IS new about the new year?
Same address, same job (or jobless), same friends and family, same car, same joie de vivre..... same old, same old.
Although, I am officially a year older and wiser (?). But I cant help but wonder (in the words of Carrie Bradshaw) what has changed and does it make a difference? Why does a new year symbolise a new start? If you look back at most years of your lives, and I do at mine, you realise that very little actually changes at the start of a new year apart from the calender date. I seem to note tha most of the big changes in my life tend to happen in late summer early autumn.... University, graduation, holiday, the bank actually sends me a up-to-date statement >.>

Or for a better example, new relationships - not just boy meets girl - what about new jobs, new responsibilites. We have a habit of not breaking habits! We start a new relationship thinking about how its going to be new, completely different, a new start on a clean slate. And we think about all the bad habits and things we did and how we are going to revolutionise and be a different person.... and then you do one thing, you eat the biscuit as I call it. Its just one biscuit. It wont hurt. Then you find yourself looking at the biscuit tin thinking about all the times you gave in, but this time you are different! You will prevail!

And a few days later, you eat another biscuit, do another habit. No more! You wont!.....
And another few days, another biscuit, another habit... and CONGRAULATIONS you just picked up your old habit!
So, your new clean slate has a couple of crumbs. Lets face it, give it to the end of the month and you'll be rolling round in the biscuit barrel XD.
Not a bad analogy really is it? I'm partial to Hobnobs myself. Anyway, in keeping with my title I am going to make some new year resolutions I plan on breaking.
1) I will not fucking swear
2) I will lose weight - *eats a Hobnob*
3) I will get a boyfriend who owns a brewery - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
4) I will stop spending money on shoes I don't need
5) I will stop drooling over rugby players in shorts
and one that I DON'T plan on breaking
1) I will keep writing my rants, thoughts and opinionated opinion even if I don't feel like it, want to or have nothing to say.
The Voices and I agree that sometimes a new beginning isn't really a new beginning.
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