Hello, poor neglected abandoned thing. I knew I wouldn't take care of you very well. It's probably the reason they gave me a bag of flour to cradle that time instead of the real live baby. It's just as well I guess, I got hungry halfway through the day and decided to be resourceful in making what eventually turned out to be shortbread biscuits, which quite frankly could've easily gone horribly wrong had I been allowed to care for the aforementioned real live baby and would've resulted in a mildly grotesque anecdote involving (amongst other things) crying and an empty baby bungee and let's face it, I'm not particularly one for the apparent notion of "dead baby jokes".
I can, of course, confirm that all of the above is a complete lie. Nothing more than a mere fabrication born out the fact that I've not been on this 'ere thingamajigger for a good solid while now. In fact they wouldn't even give me the bag of flour to look after.
Since I've been gone, (even though I've always been here, just not on this particular portion of the Intermaweb) I started doing them kinda talking-loads-of-crap-to-the-camera-edited-together-quickly-in-a-desperate-attempt-at-humour-slash-getting-people-to-like-me videos, then over a short time just didn't any more. Having said that I'll probably reignite that old disposable lighter sometime in the future, but for now, I shall stick to just writing about it. That way you're not thrown off by that god-awful thing I call a face and that slight lispy thing I've got going on with my voice. For now I'm currently two-thirds of the way through uploading the mammoth four-and-a-half hours that is the time about three weeks ago I ended up recording myself playing (and narrating with that slight lispy thing I've got going on with my voice) the first Spyro The Dragon game from way back when computer games were slightly more advanced than left-to-right two-dimensional sprite adventure-thons but not yet reached the stage where you can use a .44 caliber Magnum to blow off the heads of seventeen Artificially Intelligent zombies from 20 paces culminating in you being rewarded with a cacophony of blood and undead brain bits flying in all directions... in High Definition.
Needless to say, I've missed writing/ranting on here. I forgot how much fun it could be. I came here apologising, saying I've not been around for a while before meandering off into the verbal diahorretic nature I seem to find myself accustommed to.
(And yes, that is how you spell "diahorretic"... even if Google did try to fob me off with some lame-ass Americanised "diarrhetic" spelling when I went to check)
But I've decided to hang up the video blog for a wee while, although I'm never saying never again. Ideally, I used to imagine myself as somewhat of a narrator or commentator of some sort since I don't particularly have a pretty face to show off, which is actually quite a shame seeing as the rest of me is... well... I'm a pretty slammin' hottie if I may say so myself. But unfortunately my face is the first aspect of me that people see upon first meeting which makes it even harder to find a suitable female mate. I suppose I could always meet new people in the nude with a paper bag over my head in the hope that my luck may turn slightly but can't help wondering how long it would be before I was gently escorted off to an institution of some sort where they encourage you to talk about your dreams and watch Countdown with the sound off.
However, I fear that my voice is leading me into a similar state of "urgh, nobody wants to listen to that all the time" so my vocal-only option is going ever so slightly down the pan. I guess Spyro was my attempt at commentary/narration/talking a lot in a public-sector and I've managed to bung that up by moving to and from the microphone and subsequently either sound like I'm shouting or mumbling.
So, with my face glamourous enough to be on radio and my voice so crystal clear I could narrate silent movies, I'll stick to the writing aspect of letting my inner thoughts out unto the world. I suppose I'd better get the practice in. I am, after all, studying Creative Writing as a fully full-time student next month.
And I have no excuse not to write here again because I've remembered the password for this thing now.
