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It’s been a terrifically long time since my last entry, and I’ve started to feel slightly guilty about it, so here’s what’s happened in the past six(!) months. They’ve been largely filled with change, and without a massive amount of actual input from me. Whether I’m doing myself a disservice remains to be seen, but I’ll let you, dear reader, be the judge.

square eyes

My name is Dean and I watch an awful lot of telly. There, I’ve said it. There was a time when I could be relied on to have at least a passing knowledge of any given show’s current storyline, even if it wasn’t one of my favourites. A “party trick” I once had was the ability to recall the entire cast list of popular Antipodean teatime soap Neighbours circa 1996 (entertainment was thin on the ground sometimes). This all-seeing eye nature also meant that I’d normally end up watching a disproportionate amount of bad TV, which might go some way to explain why I still insist on watching Hollyoaks.

meta

I’ve been blogging for over a year now, and I like to think I’ve got the hang of it. It occurred to me that I’ve never really gone into depth into the whys and wherefores of Unintentionally Blank (this name did seem much wittier when I first thought of it, by the way). A lot of the time I’m writing for the sheer sake of writing; having people read it isn’t massively important, although the amount of time I spend poring over the WordPress stats would imply otherwise.

case modding

Tattoos and piercings aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but they are mine. I have tattoos. Five of them, in fact. And I fully intend to get more, even though I’m probably a smidgen too old for all that sort of thing. These have also been joined by a questionable piercing that I’ve recently been thinking about removing but, hell, ten years later I’ve kind of grown attached to it. Even now I find myself feeling slightly jealous of other people’s tattoos, wondering how they’d look on me or why I hadn’t thought of having a particular design myself.

the day between the 13th and the 15th

Yet again, and as if like clockwork, Valentine’s Day was once again upon us this week. I’m not the most romantic of men at the best of times, but I knew that I couldn’t let the day go by without at least doing something because, despite all her protestations, I’m quite sure the GW wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. This year, the big day fell awkwardly on a Monday, which in turn meant I had to come up with another weekend of romantic stuff and whatnot.

you’ve got to hold and give…

For quite some time now, I’ve been playing football on a Saturday afternoon for a team called AFC Kingston. Although their home ground and the majority of their games are played a considerable distance from my house, I’ve been a staunch member of the team for the past five and a half seasons. As daft as it may seem, I love pulling on that shirt.

My association with them started when my previous team, the mighty Griggor Athletic, folded due to a lack of interest and any viable football skills. GAFC’s squad (and I use that term very loosely; often we could barely rustle up eleven players) was composed mainly of old school friends, but one guy who had joined our ranks was keen to continue playing and joined AFCK, “tapping me up” and taking me with him. And so began my journey into the world of very amateur football.

if you can’t say anything nice…

This should be my sixth post of the year, if I was vehemently following this Postaweek thing. As I’m often busy doing nothing and generally a bit lazy, it’s only my fourth, which isn’t that bad I guess.

48 hours in la ville-lumière

The GW and I celebrated our first anniversary last weekend in truly clichéd fashion, enjoying a romantic weekend in Paris. She’d bought the Eurostar tickets on a whim back in September and sorted out our hotel too, so all I really had to do was turn up on time and be an even more perfect boyfriend for a weekend. Easy, non?

Thanks to the wonders of National Rail, working in cahoots with Transport for London, we very nearly didn’t make it to Paris in the first place, when we missed the check-in for our train by mere minutes. Thanks to the quivering bottom lip of the GW and a sympathetic Frenchman, we were quickly transferred to the next train an hour later, and off we went. Two and a bit hours later, we arrived at an overcast Gare du Nord, with another twenty minutes negotiating the Métro to reach the Bohemian district of Montmartre, and the delightfully cosy Hotel des Arts.

say it with 140 characters

As I mentioned a couple of entries ago, I’ve started another Twitter feed alongside my personal account called OneForty Reviews. As the name suggests I review new albums within Twitter’s 140-character limit. It’s by no means an original idea, as a little snooping shows at least two other people doing a much the same thing, but I’ve found myself feeling genuinely excited about this new online endeavour. I haven’t quite worked out how it’s going to make me a millionaire, but I’m enjoying it nonetheless.

let’s do this thing

Another year gone. Got a niece, got a girfriend (both of whom are summarily ace). End of bulletin.

In other news, I found WordPress’ The DailyPost project, which is pretty self-explanatory. For those who are slightly less prolific at this whole malarkey (only eleven posts in twelve months, for crying out loud), there’s an alternative: blogging once a week every week for the length of 2011. Good, eh?