How do you eat yours?

I think I've worked out the mystery of Cadbury's Creme Eggs.

They don't sell them year round, do they? Despite the fact that almost everyone loves them, they only go on sale a month or so before Easter and then linger until the last has found a loving tum... You'd think that they would sell them year round, with their popularity, right?

Well, I've puzzled over it and discovered their secret; they have harnessed the power of Ostara, the original Pagan goddess who begat Easter, and transformed her into a giant chicken; all day she lays Cadbury's Creme Eggs, and Cadbury's keep her fed and wrap her ovulations for our delectation. It explains why the eggs have been getting smaller every year as well; they have been forcing poor Ostara's hen to lay more and more eggs, so their size is reducing.

It also explains why they don't cave in to demand to make larger, proper Easter egg-sized, Creme eggs, because it'd kill the old bird.

This theory was briefly threatened by the existence of the Creme Eggs Twisted that they've just started to produce, but only briefly: these are her long, curled turds; her fecal delights; straight from her arse to your mouth.

Mmmmm.

And if you think that's disgusting, why didn't you balk when I told you that we were eating her unborn children?

I feel so good, I feel so numbers.

I was talking about numbers the other day, specifically relating to the History of Maths program, and that has rattled around in the old brain-box ever since. A conclusion has been reached; prepare for its sharing.

I was thinking specifically of numbers and their relevance in the real world; we live on numbers, they keep our society running and we base our far-reaching concepts of the Universe upon them... and yet, I almost think that they don't have any relevance to us; I don't think that the Universe could care less that we call the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter 3.141 etc...

To the reality, it just is, as is the speed of light, Planck's constant and any other number of universal truths that simply exist, and our concept of numbers is merely our way of perceiving them.

Other, alien cultures may base all of their numbers, if they have them, upon one of these constants; their understanding of the number 1 may be equal to pi, as far as we're concerned. There could be any number of variations and they may be able to predict the outcomes of complex equations by picturing the fluctuations or conceptualizing the 'numbers' as thoughts, or people, or anything. Just imagine how completely different we would be if we thought of numbers differently...

Oh well, it's about 11 now... time for bed.

Nice and sneezy.

On the way back from a training session, (work-based, not S&M), my fellow graduate Project Manager behind me sneezed. Several times.

Not an interesting or startling event, I hear you think (and I can hear you think, dear reader; RSS stands for Reads Surfer's Surmises) and you would be right, but it was the manner in which she sneezed that brought about a strange train of thought I'd like to share; she made these great, whoofing noises every time, as though her nasal passages were imploding. Not that this is a ridiculous noise to make whilst sneezing, but the fact that it's so different from my sneeze raised some questions.

Now, when I sneeze, it's an epic event: the seas churn; the earth trembles; children cry blood in the streets. I have a quite loud, violent sneeze which sends me flying if I'm in an office chair. I also make the proper, traditional sneezing noise when I do so. My sneeze is always "Aaa-choo".

Why are our sneezes so different? It's a common reaction to stimulus which even cats have, and yet our sneezes can be so personal, so unique. We don't have unique vomiting motions, or blinks, so why does a shared response differ so much?

When I first met my girlfriend, she had a delicate, little sneeze; "Choo!" she'd go, like a Pokemon confused about its name. However, as she's grown in confidence, so has her sneeze, so that it is a proper, loud, reactive sneeze and not the adorable noise a kitten would make if someone picked it up.

So, I think sneeze reactions are personal; some people suppress them, not wanting to annoy others or being embarrassed at being so loud. Others, like myself, simply go with it and sneeze their hearts out. It's an eighth of an orgasm, you know.

One idea that did cross my mind, one which I wish was true, was that the way that you handled your first sneeze affected every other sneeze you would have in your life. You'd get Freudian Phlegm!