How To Lose Your Mind In Thirty Days

National Novel Writing Month, like eating raw garlic, jumping in really cold swimming pools and fitting as many people as possible in a Mini, is one of those ideas so monumentally silly that it really has to be done for its own sake, and I thank the good people at Blogger for clueing me in to its existence. The theory is simple: in November, anyone bloody crazy enough to think it's a good idea tries to write a novel of at least fifty thousand words. If they succeed, or if they are pathetic enough to cheat (which certainly isn't an achievement in itself - it's pretty much honour-based), they are declared winners and are promptly shipped a generous supply of bragging rights.

Now, "just for the sake of it" may not seem like the best reason to churn out a novel in thirty days, but when weighed against the reasons not to (a list running to approximately zero entries) the sensible course of action is pretty clear. I'm going for it. You should too. The worst that can happen is nothing.

If you want to follow my progress in this undertaking, there's a handy meter on the sidebar that, provided I actually write something and remember to update the bloody thing, will slide slowly towards 100% during November. Whether it will get there remains to be seen.

Objects In The Rear-View Mirror May Appear Better Designed Than They Are

The concept behind the Monitor Rear-View Mirror is a very simple one. It is a small, convex mirror on a hemisphere with a chunk taken out of it so the corner of your monitor can fit in, and comes with two adhesive-backed Velcro pads so that it can be attached and detached from your monitor with all the ease of doing up a three year old's trainers. Now, it's not the most singularly useful product, but when it's sitting up there, it gets the job done. You get a pleasantly wide view of whatever room you happen to be in, and all is right with the world. But there's one small design flaw, and it's one that seems so contrived as to make me think it might just be intentional. Velcro, let's face it, is often pretty poor at holding stuff together under any kind of force. But this product's velcro is of a really quite astoundingly high quality. It's certainly far stronger than it needs to be to hold the slight weight of the mirror to your screen. In fact, it's far stronger than the adhesive on the back of the pads as well, which really makes the whole velcro system seem a little pointless. I can only assume that Team Velcro and Team Glue were engaged in a fierce rivalry and lost sight of the overall goal of the product in their selfish drive to outdo the opposition's feeble attempts at attaching junk to other junk. And that's a sad thing indeed.

Order Now And Choose A Second Venereal Disease Absolutely FREE!

I can about see how spammers might be able to hack out a modest living with e-mails advertising "penis growth", but I really can't follow what sort of custom they hope to attract by offering "a penis growth". Answers on a postcard.

In fact, no. No answers on postcards. Or on anything else. I'll live in ignorance on this one.

July's Countdown Conundrum

Not so long ago, I stumbled across a mysterious little website that featured nothing but a second-by-second countdown to some mysterious future. Now, I'm pretty sure that the countdown shouldn't have reacheed zero yet, but the site has changed. It now sports the title "password", some quite nice jewellery, and plenty of French.

And there I was thinking it would become less perplexing.

You Know What They Say About Men With Big Feet

Clowns are not scary. You should not be afraid of them. They are people in silly outfits with silly painted faces who do silly things, just like characters in period dramas, or pop stars. If you're afraid of clowns, it's an irrational fear. If you're not afraid of clowns but say you are (and as stupid as that looks written down, I'm pretty confident there are people who do this) then you are, quite simply, a bit of a wanker. Now will everybody please lay off this whole "clowns are scary" business?

He's Got His Father's Gaping, Bloody Head Wound

Yesterday, during a heated three-hour Cambridge Wow marathon, nature called. Luckily, that's a level of challenge I'm about up to coping with, and I pulled off the whole operation with militiary precision. However, when it came to actually leaving the room, I hit a small snag. You see, it seems that to go through a door you first have to open it, and while this is usually a reasonably simple task it's always best to check that the lump of wood you just pulled on actually moved before you step forwards. Otherwise, you get a door in the face.

I got a door in the face, and a small cut above my eyebrow to prove it. But the scary part came today, when I got home and mentioned the incident to my dad. It seems that he sustained a remarkably similar injury in remarkably similar circumstances, very possibly with a remarkably similar door. If there's one thing I never expected to discover about myself, it's that I have a genetic predisposition to walking into doors.