it took me a year to remember my password

but guess whos back, back again...the camden leisure pirate strikes blog land, and ive been reminded that i need to fulfill my obligation to my now even more depleted fan base by actually writing somthing every now and then. so here it is...another glorious top ten brought to you by bornunder.com

im kidding fuck it no one reads this any more anyway

Making new Friends

Thursday night in London has become the traditional home of Chris and Kirsty Thurdees, the general idea is that I travel to north London armed with alcohol, and my spangle disco shoes and Chris and I go out and get hideously drunk in the upmarket watering holes of muswell hill. On Friday morning I drag myself into work, usually in the same clothes I passed out in the previous night and muddle my bleary eyed still half pissed way through the morning until lunch time,at which point I usually go and throw up, drink some water and eat something purchased from a fine eateri'e such as Greggs or maccy D's.
All was going well until my colleague kindly pointed out that she lived locally to my friend, and insted on driving me into work on Friday mornings after my drinking session the night before as she would enjoy the company.
The First Friday I dutifully turned up, in my usual half drunk, half hung over Friday morning glory and awaited the car that would collect me and deliver me and the pig that had shat in my head to my place of work.
It was approximately ten minutes into the journey, with my colleague merrily chatting away about her family, home and life when I realised just what a mistake I had made.
This was the first time I had been a confined space alone with any of my colleagues since starting my new Job four months ago, and so desperate to make the right impression despite my obviously deteriorated physical condition I made a special effort to smile and nod in all the right places and respond with appropriate "mms" and "reallys?" when required. It was during a particularly vigorous nod and smile that my stomach made an unusual "HHHUUURRRP" noise, which was followed by an overwhelming urge to curl up in a ball with my hands over my eyes and put my head somewhere on the floor by my feet. Without running anything by my brain first my body responded with a lurch forward which caused my stomach to make yet more involuntary gargling sounds whilst at the same time attempting to climb up my throat and out of my mouth, I grabbed the dash board with both hands and dropped forward, straining at the seatbelt with a loud "uuuurrrggghhh!!!!
My horrified colleague is shouting from her seat "OH MY GOD ARE YOU OK? WHATS HAPPENING!!" whilst searching the busy London orbital for a place to pull over, I want to explain or say something reassuring like "it's ok, I just need to throw up the ten bison vodka shooters that are sitting in my stomach from last night as they are being stirred up by the movement of the car which is causing me to suffer all the classic symptoms of nausea" however at this point my brain is still trying to figure out a way to put my head on the floor by my feet and that conundrum seems to have it a little too preoccupied to assist in the formation of words, so my mouth, left to fend for itself says something along the lines of "EEERRRAAARRRRGG!!HEEERRRAAAPP!!!!!VOMIT, NOW, FUCKING NOW PULL OOOOVER...RRRUUUURRPPP!!"
not the best use of the queens English I will admit, but none the less this seems to work and my terrified looking colleague, spurred into action at the prospect of the inside of her car receiving an unwanted spray job swerves her car across three lanes of rush hour traffic and parks it neatly in a bush three feet up a roadside verge, I fumble with the Lock on the door and stumble out into the sparse roadside greenery, fall on my hands and knees beside the car and unceremoniously empty the contents of my gut onto the pavement as a select audience of a few thousand passing commuters honk car horns and shout words of encouragement from their wound down windows such as "GO ON LOVE GET IT UP!!" and "PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!!!"
After completing my M25 chunder blockbusting debut, and performing several encores I climb back into the car to find my unfortunate co-worker ducked low over the steering wheel with a look of sheer disgust on her face and without another word started the car and drove us the rest of the way to work.
As we drove the odd passing car honked horns in appreciation of my show as my colleague pushed through the rush hour traffic in grim silence until finally pulling into the company carpark, a seemingly endless half an hour later, at which point she turned to me and said, I just thought I ought to warn you, I wont be able to give you a lift next Friday as I'm out of the office, "ok" I smiled, "but thanks for today"
That morning on the holiday calendar sticky dots appeared next to my chauffeurs name for the next five Fridays, so I'm assuming she dosen't want to take me to work again.

Another delightful peep into Bornunder's brain

Top ten things you never knew about Bornunder...because tonight Im cleaning out my closet!

10. My least attractive trait is that I LOVE cleaning out my ears with cotton buds, Im obsessive, but somtimes I get all over enthusiastic and put the stick in too far, which makes me cough.

9. I used to sell incontinence supplies for a living, for those of you who dont know what that is Im talking fully blown adult nappies..for incontinence from both the front and back...ummm....passages.

8.Ive been using fake tan for the past 5 years,and no one has ever noticed.

7.When I was younger I dug up my recently laid to rest pet guinea pig "to see if he was still there"

6.Shortly after the guinea pig incident I spent a few weeks pretending to be a dog called rover, and wouldnt answer to any other name, My family argue that my behaiviour could be directly linked to the guinea pig trauma, however I feel it was probably more to do with the fact that I liked dogs better than I liked my sisters

5.Although the incontinence supplies was a shit job (literally) the worst job I have EVER had was flipping burgers on a catering van. I lasted 3 hours, then threw a tantrum, and a can of coke, at my boss and stormed off. Forgetting that I was in doncaster and my only way home was in my bosses car, so I had to go back at the end of the day and ask the man Id only a few hours previously told to "go and fuck himself sideways with a bent spatula" for a lift home.He was understandably unsympathetic to my plight.

4.The most embarrasing moment of my life was in my last year of high school when I went into the Local chemist to get the morning after pill, and a girl who sat next to me in my maths class was behind the counter and she had to ask me the mandetory morning after pill questions like "how long ago did you have unprotected sex" and "was it with a long term partner?" and the old favorite "have you taken this drug before?" Excruciating.

3.My friends have named my occasional alter ego "Princess J of the Detonation Nation" Princess J can be held responsible for all my diva-esque moments,like shouting at strangers in the street because they stepped into my path, and throwing explosive public tantrums. She's also a binge drinker, and an emotional drunk.

2.My Most guilty secret is telling my 88 year old grandma that her treasured 5 year old canary died of old age, when in actual fact my cat ate it..she was devastated as Jimmy the canary had seemed to "so chrirpy and happy yesterday" shes now 91 and still none the wiser, shes since adopted my cat and dotes on it and I still cant help but chuckle when I see my canary munching cat curled contentley in my Grans lap whils my dear old nan tells me what a wonderful pet she is.

1.The most embarrasing CD I own and listen to is Melanie C (A.K.A Sporty Spice) non-hit wonder, Going Down..and I know all the words to the A side.....and the B side.

Bornunder Grows Campino roses

they arent edible though...booooo!

Bornundart...Sunshine Collection

Bornunder Discovers spastic taggers

This may be a good contender for the most pointless waste of a spray can in the world....nay, the universe.

Bornunder finds word verifications amusing

This is what happens when you sign up to G-Mail..

Bornunder Dosent Like Moggies

Rotweiller head transplant operation declared a success

Ten uninteresting facts about London

1.Sitting on the underground for 40 minutes will do as much damage to your lungs as smoking two ciggarettes.
2.The O2 shopping centre in finchley road, owned and managed by the phone network O2 is about the only place in the whole of London where you cant get a signal on an O2 phone
3.The air is so polluted that when you pick...erm I mean blow your nose it comes out black, even if you dont leave the house.
4.If its late and your on your own, the best way to ward off potential muggers is to walk briskly down the street singing disney tunes at the top of your voice.
5.If you go out in SOHO and leave your drink unattended for more than a fraction of a second, you stand a 38% chance of having your drink spiked (I like those odds)
6.If you look carefully at night, a cheap tacky multi coloured rope light can be seen flashing all round the edge of one of the very top front windows of Buckingham Palace.
7.The hotdog sellers in the west end charge wait for it....FOUR FUCKING POUNDS!!! for a hotdog...without onions.
8.The trains on the docklands light railway are operated remotely and run without drivers...and if you dont know this before you get on you get scared shitless when the train speeds off with no driver.
9.Very very few bar staff actually know what a Cider and Black is...and look at you blankly if you ask for one.
10.The cheapest to watch and most entertaining thing in the whole world is when somone tries to jump on the tube at the very last moment and the doors close on them, squishing their Limbs.

Where have I been?

Well...Ive been recruited into a coven of witches when I followed the noise of a siren horn...

which led to me taking part in ritualistic dances with strange night creatures...

Then I Travelled through time on a prehistoric adventure to save mankind from the evil clutches of emperor ZURGOREX!

Then I met the sheep from the bowels of hell and it ate my shoes

So I walked home barefoot to be confronted by a scary phsyco-engaging mind melding plastic ball who said it knew exactly what I wanted...
but it diddnt know where to get it...

So I suppose you can forgive me for not posting for a few months

Bornunder Introduces the Detonation Nation

Cider drinkers must hide under hats
Detonation Nation encourages you to drink mojhitos and sambuka responsibly...and if that plan dosent work out, look as if butter wouldnt melt.
Playing alone is ok
Playing together is better
Enjoy the North responsibly

Riding the London Eye With a Kettle...and Martin

And if I diddnt spend the whole 35 minutes gripping the railings in total terror induced paralasyis with Martin trying in vain to convince me that the chances of the London eye crashing to earth were extremely remote Im sure I would have really enjoyed the veiw.

Flying Jew Lights Chanukah candles

Is it a bird? Is it a plane....No its a Rabbai

Bornunder wants a squishy bulldog

but I cant have one because my landlady is a bitch

Bornunders over christmas and has some new years resolutions

Christmas with Martin and his family was, as expected booze soaked, turkey stuffed southern family gathering at its best, with his family seemingly endlessley entertained by that I am still stubbournly refusing to pronounce the words glass and bath as barth and glarse despite the fact that I am now of course an honourary southerner. The festive season saw me being force fed several roast dinners and cold buffets washed down with martins fathers seemingly unending supply of (especially brought for me the only person there who drinks it) red wine and ninety four different types of cheese and buscuit in a lovley warm house in Hampshire.
New years eve found me caught in a crowdcrush of about twentey seven thousand revellers in trafalger square clinging onto Martins hand as we endured lashing wind, subzero temperatures and torrential rain squished up against all kinds of unsavoury characters, face to face with the occassional police horses arse in the name of welcoming in the new year and watching the fireworks (which incidentally we couldn't see because there was a building in the way so we had to watch them via live feed onto a big screen in the square)2007 began (somewhat predctabaly bearing in mind we were in heavy crowds in central london) with a phone call to cancel the bank card we had lost/had stolen from our bag.
Now, sadly the parties have ceased, and the time is nigh for the usual obligatory new years resolutions, and to ensure that I have less oppertunity to deny ever making any I'm going to publish them here..then in febuary when im still smoking too much, drinking sambuka even though I know I cant handle it like I used to and swearing at commuters who get in my way we can all point out that Im a usless weak willed victim of modern life who just does what the media and her friends tell her too.
Resolution number one:Stop being a madam no, I dont mean Im going to sell my succsessful brothel and end my fictional association with the oldest trade. The resolution to stop being a madam is more for the beneft of my boyfriend and friends, who are the people around me who have to shuffle uncomfortably and look at the floor whilst I make very loud and public observations about my opinions on such things as the appaling service in this restaraunt, the fact that the bloke in the white shirt just cut infront of me in the queue, how I REFUSE to buy anything from that CRETIN behind the counter and what that girl over there is wearing. In short, I am going to be a little less diva-ish, a little more shut up and put up.
For those of you who know her on a personal basis, my evil alterego "Princess J of the detonation nation" is going to take a few tantrum managment seminars, Which means, much to the relief of London pedestrians and anyone who has to walk the street with me I will not be shouting "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU IGNORANT BASTARD?!!" at anyone who accidentally brushes shoulders with me in the street.
Resolution number two:Come to terms with the fact that I can no longer drink as much as I used to. we could attribute my reduced alcohol tolerance to a number of things, my friends in the North factor it to my now living in London hence as a southern fairy I will, by default be unable to drink as much as they can. My friends on the south will explain its because Im a northerner and all northerners cant drink anything except newcastle brown ale, my faimly put it down tothe fact that Im adopted and I'm pretty certain its because I will be 24 this year,which means Im getting progressively closer to thirty and Ive got to accept I cant maintain my bosses approval and go on 72 hour long student-esqe benders drinking neat vodka strained onto coke through a dirty tea towel any more. So I have to accept that when the boys suggest a round of sambuka, I must not jump up and shout "Get me two!...and a vodka and coke!" because I cant drink like I used to, if I get pissed I feel like shit for two days after and the vast majority of the time, the night ends in Martin saying "oh poor B" and shaking his head whilst holding my hair out the way and encouraging me to sip water so I can empty the contents of my stomach down the toilet in our flat.
Resolution number three:give up smoking again its not big, its not clever, I lasted nine months last time I quit and only started again because It was a good and safe alternative to shooting my boss in the face then pissing in the bullet holes. Thankfully the boss in question is now out of my life, and theres no one else who could possibly posses the same talent for being an insufferable c*nt so theres no reason for me to smoking. bye bye mayfair lights.
resolution number four:be less vain a promise to waste less time playing with my hair, checking my reflection in windows, trying on seventy seven different outfits and complaining becasuse the three inch heels Im wearing to walk round the cobbled streets of the west end have cut off the circulation to my toes. I will also not buy expensive drinks just becasue theyre pink and come in pretty glasses and the time spent applying my makeup each day will be reduced (at least to a point where I say "Im going to get ready" and martin dosent reply with "good I was meaning to catch up on my sleep/gaming/family guy veiwing/finish reading the encyclopedia")
My hours spent getting ready coupled with my appaling time keeping are (as anyone who knows me will confirm) not one of my better qualities, and although usually rock up to work/social engagements/dates at least an hour or so late in a perfectly good mood, the unfortunates who have been sat waiting for me hate me more and more each time I breezily ask "ooohhh so sorry have you been waiting long?"
last but not least Resolution number five: Make more effort to visit my friends Im a North west London snob, and my friends in East London always have to come to visit me because I dont like leaving the saftey and toffery of the Hampstead area and taking the risk of seeing a building that isnt pretty or going to a pub that dosent serve a decent mojhito,So I will venture out of my bubble more often for the sake of those less fortunate who live in the East,and risk getting watermelon on my shoes without complaining or calling you slumdoners.
Thats it for new years resolutions, as the good person I am they are mainly for the benefit of others rather than myself.In a few weeks time you will all have less reason to complain about me and (if its possible) more reasons to love me.

The adventures of mushroomhead continue

This week, mushroomhead meets his maker....

Bornunder artwork

all my own work ladies and gents..which gets the vote to be the new profile photo?

Bornunder finds Funnies

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

see more here!

Another astounding top ten from Bornunder

Today, top ten things I hate about my job

10. My boss is under the impression that he is a desireable,attractive,nubile young man and acts towards me as if this is, infact the case. he is infact a badly dressed balding arrogant middle aged tossbag with no ability to interact socially with other human beings without being condecsending
9. My co-workers vary between mind blowingly dull shades of grey to suffering hyperactivity attention defecit disorder, with no pleasing middle ground in between
8. Ive been working there several weeks, the directors desk is less than four feet away from me and he is clearly visible to me from my desk,as I am him. He knows this yet he has not yet had the decency or good manners to introduce himself to me.
7.I have recently discovered that although my male colleauges are doing exactly the same job as me, I am getting paid around 2-4 grand a year less than them. A revelation which further supports my earlier theroy that my boss is infact a shameless chauvanistic swine who is under the very false impression that female time is less valuble than the male equivalent. However, the machismo loving pillock running the recruitment process has unwittingly hired a bunch of girls,as despite being the only female member of a 7 strong team I am still the only person in the office who does not wear pink to work on a regular basis.which leads me nicely on to number 6...
6.All the blokes (and I use the word blokes in its loosest possible terms)I work with wear pink/lilac/powder blue shirt and tie combos on a near daily basis, and spend most of the day arguing amongst themselves over wether it is acceptable for straight men to wear such girly colours, I am of course disqaulified from this conversation as screaming in their faces "YOU LOOK LIKE A TRANNY IN A WIND TUNNEL YOU FAT SACK OF SHIT" ruins everyones fun.
5.My fellow staff are under the impression that the very essence of hilarity is logging onto computers using other each others user accounts to send obscene e-mails under assumed identities which usually contain graphic speculations about which employees are currently performing homosexual acts on each other in the carpark. They all complain about this, and yet none have the good sense to change their password to prevent a re-occourence.
4.It takes me over an hour to commute there in the morning, I usually have to stand for around 20 minutes in the pissing rain and cold surrounded by grumpy fuckers who also dont want to go to work,I can NEVER get a seat, I have to get a train and a bus and walk for half an hour to get to work come rain wind or shine, but if I am late by a fraction of a second, Im hauled up for a disciplineary.
3.My managers idea of building team morale is forcing us into doing compulsary unpaid overtime every day to give us ample oppertunity to spend more time in each others company so we can learn to despise each other that little bit more with every second that passes.
2.I hate most of my fellow team members, the people who surround me for over 9 out of every 24 hours whom I am in constant and unavoidable contact with are tossers of the very highest order.
1.every second I spend there is a second I could spend doing somthing less soul destroying than working all day for a lesser wage than my male colleauges who I hate, lining the pockets of a company director who cant even be arsed to walk four feet accross the room and introduce himself to me.

Bornunder wants one

A hug...I want a hug

Myspace debut

Bornunder hits myspace

This was the most annoying thing Ive ever tried to do it took me hours just to get a crappy profile done. we love the simplicity of blogger

The Bogey Man on The Bus

Commuting in London can be at times a pretty traumatic experience, and I for one have had a number of unplesant encounters with societys odd balls from time to time, but today was most definitely, by a long way the most horrific of them all.
My bus journey lasts approximately 30 minutes, longer if the traffic is bad, which it inveriably is thanks to the eternal roadworks at Mill Hill.(estimated completion some time after the trillenium)
Today's bus was particuarly busy, so I was unfortunately forced to sit next to a fellow passanger. Usually I avoid this at all costs, but on this occassion I saw a relatively normal looking slightly overweight gent on the front seat and considering that he had no obvious lunatic tendencies (he wasnt chewing on a half eaten hedgehog, or waving a gun around) I hedged my bets and took a seat.
A few moments later I was dusturbed by a gentle repetetive prodding in my side, at first I studiously ignored it, as all good commuters ignore socially unacceptable behaviour from fellow passengers, I concentrated on my metro and gave it a reading it would never forget, but a few minutes late the prodding haddnt ceased, so after a small internal debate I tenatively glanced in the direction of the prodder.
It was only then the full extent of my error of judgment became apparent.
at first I tried sneaking the odd glance out of the corner of my eye, not sure I could trust what my brain was attempting to convince me I was seeing, but after a while my discrecsion was forgotten and I was openly gawping at the sequence of events unfolding beside me.(for those of you who are still wondering, yes at this point I am still being prodded in the ribs)
His forefinger was up his nostril to the middle joint, rooting and digging, every few seconds he would remove the finger, examine the nose produce attached to it and smile.
He would then slowly and deliberately roll it aroung between the thumb and forefinger un till it was quite spherical...and then...he reached to his belly and added the bogey to another larger spherical snot ball that was resting on his belly.
We arent talking a golf ball sized bogey construction, but this was impressive none the less, this ball of blacky green nose crap was at least this size of a b.b gun pellet.
My immediate reaction was disgust...shortly followed by awe...how long had he been building this ball of bogies?..had he produced all that during this short journey or does he carry this project with him and add to it at every oppertunity?
He picked his nose solidly for the whole bus journey..I had to move seats because my gag reflex kicked in on his behalf when he pulled out a long stringy cocktail of congealed stuff and luiquid mucus, and yet even from accross the bus I could still see this animal mining for construction resources and building on his sphere of snot. almost 40 minutes in I could not bear to watch any more, and the people sat near me were beggining to notice that I was making involuntary "hurp" and "burrrhg" noises as I tried to suppress my urge to vomit. I even attempted to video him picking his nose as I felt youtube would benefit from this input, but unfortunately the footage was shite becasue I was desperatley trying not to hurl, whats worse is I dont even know how this story ends, whether he took the gargantuan bogey with him,flicked it on the floor, or if he ever stopped picking his nose, as I had to get off the bus..this story has a happy ending though...all london busses have cctv....so all I have to do is claim an incident on that journey and I assume I can get a copy, and guess whos in front of the camera?