The Little Angel And Devil On My Shoulder

Holy crapple, I haven't been here for a while. See I knew this would happen since... you know, THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS! I start a blog for about a month or two then neglect it entirely. Anyway since this place hasn't been updated since two days after my 20th anniversary of life, I think it's time to dust off the cobwebs of the last month and a half and bring you the goings-on of my run-of-the-mill, "nobody cares" existance (I mean seriously, is anyone reading this? I think that's why I always stop, you know).

Anyhoo, update imminent:

Nothing.

Oh wait, actually one thing, I'm forgetting how long it's been since I've been here and just realising I've left out the entire month that is July. The most important thing: I actually had time off work! I mean shops are nice places to go when you have money, not as exciting when you want to get money. But still, I spend my days in the realms of public relations for the purposes of building character, gaining the trust of my fellow humans, having something to generally just do during the day and the ever important wage slip providing me with much needed booze money.

Although quite frankly I think I need to behave with my drink now. The thing with me is I always try to look at the positives. Point in this case being that because I'm such a lightweight I don't have to spend so much on getting my brain all whacked out on the sauce. The downside to this, however, and I mean this sincerely, is that what few friends I have are at risk of me driving them away with my not-so-subtle affection for each one of them.

And I've likened it to having my conscience as the little cartoon angel and devil on my shoulders. All the time I'm sober I follow the angel being all nicey and such, but the more I drink, the more the angel gradually fades away before consequently disappearing for the rest of the night, only to return the morning after smacking me in the head with a harp and furiously asking me what I did last night. Well, what did happen 'last night' was the little cartoon devil finally got a look in when I drank several pints of cider (which from here on out will be referred to as "Devil Juice") and fell in love with all my friends and close acquaintences. During the love-fest I attempted to... I think the technical term is "get off" with several of them. Occasionally people of both genders... at the same time...

Failing that, I concluded the night screaming along to "Sex On Fire" by way of karaoke.

But yeah, I think the little devil side of me is actually a big whore, and a bisexual one at that, but I keep that repressed and locked up inside as the consequences of unleashing it onto the world in a sober state would be so horrifying I can't even imagine. I mean it's be worse than the invention of "All-American Turd" flavoured ice-cream.

So yeah, now you know me a little better.

In other news, (thinking of missing out July) I became an uncle for the first time last month since after a long and gruelling pregnancy my sister finally sprogged one out for the team. The little nephew is so cute and little, I didn't think it were possible for me to have such gushy and girly emotions... then again, I wasn't drunk and trying to get into my male friends' mouths at the time. Anyway, since he's not my child I don't particularly want to put too much here so as the respect the privacy of other people's lives, so yeah, that's that.

Pretty much after all that, college is over for the summer and more work hours have come my way, leading to infrequent bouts of mild depression and boredom. Although I've come to realise that the best in royalty-free music that's piped over the store's sound system (a system consisting of a shed-load of songs being played for hours on end with the system set to "Ultimate Random Play All") has a horrible way of drilling itself into one's head. Songs, which I have titled in my head since nobody knows the real titles of them, range from "That Crap R&B Song With The Fanfare At The Beginning" to "Crying Woman" (who actually sounds like she's crying, obviously). The ultimate cheer-up song though (and as I found out yesterday seems to work as a hangover cure as well) is the one that's probably called "Everybody Needs A Robot" by Anonymous... probably? I won't describe... I shall leave thee in suspense, especially since the only way to appreciate the sheer awesomeness of the song is to listen to it first-hand.

Anyway, I ramble, but lately I've found myself growing strangely hooked to this year's Big Brother-a-thon, in which some 374 attention seekers do ker-ay-zehh stuff just to be on telly. In amongst all the weirdness I was most dis-heartened to see everybody's favourite (or not-so-much favourite as it turns out) Pakistani fashion designer slash airhead, Hira to be mercilessly kicked out. I mean she spent 5 hours eating a cupcake and didn't have a clue of what was going on half the time. Alas, they always get rid of the funny ones. And besides, my unhealthy Big Brother addiction is only causing me further delusions that maybe I should apply to be placed in confinement with a shit load of uber-camp gays, butch-manly lesbians and various other stereotypes (as well as the token Indian guy so Channel 4 don't look racist) and show them all what for! Either that or I'm actually just an attention seeker who wants to persue a modelling career by appearing on reality TV... which one am I? YOU decide!

But really could you imagine that? "Day 42, Jamie is in the bathroom, pickin' his nooose" (all in an exaggerated northern accent). 

The Grand Proof-Read of 2011: "Everybody Needs A Robot" is performed by one Matthew Ebel, whose album "Goodbye Planet Earth" contains many hits from the sound system of a discount retail chain.