Take the cakes (and shove them)

This morning, the devil's own email newsletter, Daily Candy, sent all its readers a link to this webpage, which included instructions on how to make decorative cake balls. See these Hallowe'en themed ones below:


The instructions for making the basic shape are nine pages long. The ones above are finished off with edible marker pen and a green Tic-tac. You are also invited to coo over the Christmas ones, below - Frosty's hat is crafted from a lovingly-altered miniature Oreo cookie and his nose is a candy-dipped sunflower seed.


And that's when I lost it.

While I have no doubt that I would enjoy eating one of these little blighters, I genuinely, hand on heart, believe that the person who created these, and the people who thought we should, out of EVERYTHING GOING ON IN LONDON, a city of NINE MILLION SOULS, be pressed upon to recreate these, well, I think it is time for their friends and family to stage an intervention ending in some sort of permanent incarceration and hourly mocking.

In the list of things people should be doing with their oh-so-brief time on this fascinating planet, dipping sunflower seeds in molten orange candy in order to use them as a faux-tiny-carrot for the nose of a reconstituted cake ball snowman is about ninety eight billionth, several hundred thousand below causing deliberate harm to a third person, staring into space for days on end and eating more pizza even though you're fat and already full. At least kicking a dog would end up with one feeling some remorse, or, in the case of catbin lady, cause a media furore that might teach someone a valuable lesson.

Spending hours on end making miniature cakes with inventive tiny accessories is guaranteed to end only in pathological smugness, the only cure for which is death, and guaranteed years in therapy for any offspring of these carefree people, and so I sincerely implore anyone who's already begun stockpiling ingredients for these tiny existence-thieves to please, take those plastic sticks you bought to support your creations, and ram them slowly into your eyes as a permanent lesson that you must never, ever waste your precious life in such an imbecilic and desultory way ever again.

Desperate Times

At 09:34 this morning I had finished all the work I could do for today. Since then I have been creating absurdly unnecessary jobs for myself in order to pass the time and pouncing on the phone when it rings so that I look as though I have a role, even though I am clearly superfluous and will be for as long as my boss is out of the office.

This afternoon I have stopped attempting to appear engaged with my work, since it must be obvious to all that I have none. Instead, in a brief moment of bravery, I strolled off the company intranet and onto eBay, to see if a second-hand coat I’ve been watching has spiralled out of affordability. Quickly, I fell into the lulling vortex that I so often experience when I’m on eBay – hours, possibly days, can go by while I scroll, as one possessed, through the world’s rejected clothing and accessories.

Today, however, I tangentised in a way that shocked even myself. Seeing that my coat-elect was still under £10, I absent-mindedly clicked on another of the seller’s items that attracted my attention. It was a few seconds too many before I realised what it was I was contemplating. All at once my self-awareness returned with a surge and I became aware that I was regarding a large selection of vintage wedding dresses.

As the bare and, I like to think, still youthful ring finger of my precious left hand will attest, I am not engaged. Nor am I in any hurry to become a fiancée. Clearly my boredom is plumbing new depths and forcing me to take refuge in embarrassing daydreaming that suggests a wholly-incorrect discontentedness with my current unwed status. I need distractions. The weekend begins in zero minus 91 minutes.

Question Time

Today's preferred distraction technique is a site called Yahoo! Answers, where anyone can log in, post a random question and have it answered by the great and good Yahoo! users across the stratosphere. I got involved when I had a question about income tax brackets in the UK - and within minutes had received a brilliant link to a website that calculates how much you'll earn per month after tax, depending on your salary.

A week later I asked about the wafty music that accompanies the Odeon cinema ad - and a nice young man not only identified the music (a one minute track called Blue that was written specifically for Odeon by someone called Nick Ryan) but made an .mp3 from a recording and sent me the link. Über-helpful.

Yahoo! Answers uses a points system, whereby you lose five points for asking questions (as it is SELFISH) and gain two points for answering one. The ultimate accolade is for your answer to be awarded Best Answer by the question's asker. This happened to me a few days ago, when my answer to the question 'Is happiness a choice?' was chosen as Best Answer, and consequently Yahoo! rewarded me with ten extra points.

The burst of self-satisfaction that I had been recognised by the online community has led to a flurry of new answers. Just this afternoon, as I wait to hear back from the City job people, I have contributed a further ten responses, gaining me twenty points. I correctly identified Seal's 'Future Love Paradise' from its opening lyrics and was able to put Lizangel out of her misery - but unfortunately around thirty other Answerers were every bit as enthusiastic and I fear that my speedy response won't be speedy enough to win the prize. In retrospect, pasting the full lyrics into my answer directly (as both Ron and Second Class did in theirs) would have been more impressive than pasting in a link to a relevant site, but I'll put that down as a rookie error. I have also responded to 'Does it make you feel superior to American-bash?' and 'Fat, violent, ignorant: the stats are not looking good for the UK. How can we change this for the better?'.

With 144 points, I thought I was doing well. Fool. When I clicked on the link to the Answers Leaderboard, everything changed. There at the top was Huggz, who has only been a member of the site since 10 September 2006, and yet has managed to answer 15,415 questions, with 52% of these being chosen as Best Answer, accruing a total of 138,748 points. Second on the list is Crystal, who is absurdly prolific but clearly not as helpful: she's answered a whopping 23,565 questions since 19 June 2006, almost ten thousand more than Huggz, but only 21% of these have been given the Best Answer accolade and her points score has taken a battering as a result. However, with a current total of 138,240, she's fast catching up with Huggz and their gripping battle for Yahoo! Answers Supremacy is nail-biting.

I see from the Leaderboard that Crystal has shot herself in the foot somewhat by greedily asking 98 questions herself, thus losing herself valuable points - whereas the more focussed Huggz has only weakened eight times. What, I wondered, did Huggz, who knows the answer to over 15 thousand questions, need to know? I clicked on his/her profile and discovered a recently-diagnosed diabetic with a fondness for skinny dogs and spiders:

Huggz' Eight Questions:

1. Sugar free christmas cake....?
2. How do i contact cutomer services at yahoo (UK)?
3. For type 2 diabetics on medication...?
4. Will you help end greyhound slaughter?
5. I have a Freeview box plugged into my TV.?
6. Does anyone know a web based spider forum, site or club?
7. Why are buttons on different sides for men and women?
8. Does anyone know where I can buy clown loaches at a reasonable price?
   

With a plotline like this, who needs Neighbours?

When only a Pilot V5 Finepoint will do...

It's a funny old world, isn't it. Eleven hours away in Los Angeles, Robbie Williams' publicist is fielding hundreds of calls regarding his client's decision to check into drug rehab again. In the Far East, the North Koreans have agreed to start the nuclear disarmament process. Up in Leeds, police are talking to three men in connection with the murder of a 2-year-old. So much is happening, lives are falling apart and being pieced back together again - and yet, here I am, still wearing pyjamas, still unemployed, still sitting in my beloved bedroom chair, studying a page of mysterious hieroglyphics with unusual seriousness. While the rest of the world is dealing with its issues, I am learning how to use proof-reading symbols for a job interview at a publishing house tomorrow.

There's something slightly humiliating about poring over a page of strange squiggles and lines - an echo of childhood multiplication-tables-induced panic. But learning the proofreading language in 48 hours is no mean feat and unless I want to be left with no job options other than the very-well-paid but fundamentally-un-me job at the City bank or a stint at TGI Friday's, right now I need to get on and do it. This being the case, it is strange that I am being mentally dragged towards the red pen section of my local stationers' in order to find the Ultimate Copy Editor's Writing Utensil. If only 'flawless procrastination skills' were a CV talking point...