Because apparently we can't use the word "Youth" any more for fear of hurting kids' feelings, whether they have knives and knuckle-dusters or not.
'It's OK if you hurt my feelings, I'll just hurt your kidneys'
Anyhoo, I just read that Politically Correct/Incorrect/Debatable/Neutral/Who-the-hell-really-cares story and decided to write somewhere about it and figured "Hey... I've got this..."
I've been observing a certain aspect about young people recently, though. Mainly in habits and attitudes and I've pretty much had this whole rant about a certain something circling around in my head for weeks now. I've wanted to put it up here but out of fear of looking like I hate people and looking like I want to make them look bad, I've had cold feet about the whole thing. Having said that, it's just come to my attention that it's extrememly likely that nobody is actually reading this. Hell, I doubt anybody knows this space on the web exists.
Maybe tomorrow then. I'm too tired now and what with the silly season approaching thick and fast now (Remember folks, just another 26 shopping days left before the anniversary of the birth of some magical fellow called Jesus and the death of some musical fellow called James Brown) people, more specifically 'customers', are becoming more and more wrapped up (no pun intended) in their holiday shopping. The consequence of this, more stupidity, more stuff left lying around unwanted, more ignorance and arrogance leading to me doing more work. And I know, work is supposed to be just that, work. But I can't help feeling a little co-operation would be at least showcased at some point.
Ack, just moaning on and on about nothing I can do anything about, I guess. But still, the worst perpetrators tend to be those further on up the chronological scale. I would call them "Old" but out of fear of being considered Politically Incorrect, I'd like to settle for "Youthfully Challenged". Of course, as previously established, we shouldn't really use "Youth" any more and so I therefore have no other alternative but to opt for labelling these folk... (deep breath) "Chronologically Challenged, Challenged". However, much like when two negatives cancel each other out and form a positive, so too do the two 'challenges' neutralise each other. So really, the best way to describe the older generation is "Chronological"... or the very definition of Time itself!
Like I said, nobody's reading this... at least not any more!
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
Greeeetings from Windows 7!!!
So here it is! Finally, the end to all my pissing and moaning about not having any decent equipment to get on with work of the moving visual kind.
I finally have a funkay computer (which is, like, a step up from "funky") with the capabilities of Windows 7 thrown onto it, with such features as snapping things to the sides, shaking single windows to clear the place up, and some weird cursor glow over active programs in the taskbar... and no, I'm not actually a representative of Microsoft biggin' it up fo' da Windows 7 massive! I just find it quite funky, or funkay as I've already established. But it does run at an impecable speed that if only my Internet connection could keep up I'd be so ecstatic I might as well pop, which would unfortunately cause quite a mess in this little corner of my room where I've set everything up.
....Anyway, with all good things come a downside... the crippling downside of this one being that as of this day I have no edit software on the dang-blasted thing. Still I'm remaining optimistic, despite the fact that it was actually being pessimistic that got me to this point.
See this time last week, in that pathetic excuse for an institute of learning we affectionately call "college" (because let's face it, "pathetic excuse for an institute of learning" just uses too much breath), I was feeling like I was getting nowhere very slowly with three projects to complete within just shy of a month and no discernable way of physically doing them, I needed to take matters into my own hands. Screw saving! Four hundred and eight of my hard-earned pounds went into fuelling the bits and bobs which would eventually become the machine I so affectionately call "Clancy". Over the course of the week a wee bit more was pissed away on my endeavours to get the latest W7 (that's short for "Windows 7" since I can't be bothered typing out "Windows 7" every time... even though I now realise I just typed it twice) and a monitor of sorts so that I can actually view what ol' Clancy's trying to show us.
Pretty much, it's now a Monday on from last Monday and I still feel like I'm getting nowhere slowly with said three projects. Nevertheless, the difference between this week and last is that now I'm confident I'll actually be able to get something done without having to rely on the institute of apparent nothingness.
I am of course exaggerating here. Obviously the college does have suffienct equipment available for its students... just very limited access to it. That is until now, since of course numerous amounts of complaints have finally led to someone making a decision this week into allowing us more access. But I say "too little too late, mere mortals! I've got a Clancy now!"
"Why Clancy?" you may ask, to which I reply with an incoherent "Uh-unno?" accompanied with a jolt of the shoulders and pathetic head tilt.
In other news, certain people have come back into my life, same people have left my life once again, and the world keeps on spinnin'... just like my poor confused brain!!!!!
I finally have a funkay computer (which is, like, a step up from "funky") with the capabilities of Windows 7 thrown onto it, with such features as snapping things to the sides, shaking single windows to clear the place up, and some weird cursor glow over active programs in the taskbar... and no, I'm not actually a representative of Microsoft biggin' it up fo' da Windows 7 massive! I just find it quite funky, or funkay as I've already established. But it does run at an impecable speed that if only my Internet connection could keep up I'd be so ecstatic I might as well pop, which would unfortunately cause quite a mess in this little corner of my room where I've set everything up.
....Anyway, with all good things come a downside... the crippling downside of this one being that as of this day I have no edit software on the dang-blasted thing. Still I'm remaining optimistic, despite the fact that it was actually being pessimistic that got me to this point.
See this time last week, in that pathetic excuse for an institute of learning we affectionately call "college" (because let's face it, "pathetic excuse for an institute of learning" just uses too much breath), I was feeling like I was getting nowhere very slowly with three projects to complete within just shy of a month and no discernable way of physically doing them, I needed to take matters into my own hands. Screw saving! Four hundred and eight of my hard-earned pounds went into fuelling the bits and bobs which would eventually become the machine I so affectionately call "Clancy". Over the course of the week a wee bit more was pissed away on my endeavours to get the latest W7 (that's short for "Windows 7" since I can't be bothered typing out "Windows 7" every time... even though I now realise I just typed it twice) and a monitor of sorts so that I can actually view what ol' Clancy's trying to show us.
Pretty much, it's now a Monday on from last Monday and I still feel like I'm getting nowhere slowly with said three projects. Nevertheless, the difference between this week and last is that now I'm confident I'll actually be able to get something done without having to rely on the institute of apparent nothingness.
I am of course exaggerating here. Obviously the college does have suffienct equipment available for its students... just very limited access to it. That is until now, since of course numerous amounts of complaints have finally led to someone making a decision this week into allowing us more access. But I say "too little too late, mere mortals! I've got a Clancy now!"
"Why Clancy?" you may ask, to which I reply with an incoherent "Uh-unno?" accompanied with a jolt of the shoulders and pathetic head tilt.
In other news, certain people have come back into my life, same people have left my life once again, and the world keeps on spinnin'... just like my poor confused brain!!!!!
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Insert Title
So, I've been having a bit of a crisis of Faith as of late. But don't let that keep you from reading this shit.
I've been trying to adopt a new style of writing (or really a more "natural" style of writing to me as you might see from the previous post) mixing rant and rhyme together in a bit of a flowing manner. However, after that first one I seem to be struggling, hence it's not coming to me as naturally as one might hope. And whenever I try to write something funky it turns out to be some sort of self-indulgent rant about some bad thing or another (...take this, for example) with no rhyme or flowing structure at all.
What's more is that my seemingly endless venture into attempting to get some form of magnificent computerised technology with some form of magnificent video editing software capabilities is... well... just that. Seemingly endless.
Basically, I feel like I'm going nowhere slowly and just want something to get done.
They say that patience is a virtue and all good things come to those who wait, but at this rate I'm half-expecting the world handed to me on a plate (Hey! That rhymed a lot... see I can do it when I'm just blagging my blogging). Waiting just seems to wear me down and I'm getting pretty darn tired.
Either that or this tiredness is coming from the coldyness that's been plaguing my throat for the last few days.
I've been trying to adopt a new style of writing (or really a more "natural" style of writing to me as you might see from the previous post) mixing rant and rhyme together in a bit of a flowing manner. However, after that first one I seem to be struggling, hence it's not coming to me as naturally as one might hope. And whenever I try to write something funky it turns out to be some sort of self-indulgent rant about some bad thing or another (...take this, for example) with no rhyme or flowing structure at all.
What's more is that my seemingly endless venture into attempting to get some form of magnificent computerised technology with some form of magnificent video editing software capabilities is... well... just that. Seemingly endless.
Basically, I feel like I'm going nowhere slowly and just want something to get done.
They say that patience is a virtue and all good things come to those who wait, but at this rate I'm half-expecting the world handed to me on a plate (Hey! That rhymed a lot... see I can do it when I'm just blagging my blogging). Waiting just seems to wear me down and I'm getting pretty darn tired.
Either that or this tiredness is coming from the coldyness that's been plaguing my throat for the last few days.
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
I Wanna Be A Student
OK, so it’s been three years since I started,
And three years since I stopped it
So technically I should’ve finished by now
But instead I’m only just ready to begin.
Hey, it’s not my fault my brain wasn’t in the mindset of your average eighteen-year-old
I was just doing what I was told
Fitting in the mould
Out in the cold
Helplessly watching this sequence of events unfold
The world was waiting for me but I wasn’t ready for the world
So I just popped down the road for a bit instead
But now it’s three years on
And I am really really glad of where I am now and what I’ve done
But really, honest and true
I’ve done what I’ve done and now I wanna do what I wanna do
I need to cut this dead-end job
Of monotony
Going out of my mind, I might need a lobotomy
Maybe look to astronomy
To decide if I continue with my work in the field of cinematography
In a place where I could do crazy shit like getting drunk and playing Monopoly
...’til 3am
And yes,
I’d like to be poor
And be in debt
And live in a box room
That I’ve just got to let
And bump into people in the halls who I’ve never even met
And have a multitude of good times I’ll never forget
Except, of course, excessive amounts of alcohol will unfortunately force me to forget
But it’ll be the best
I can be pissed all the night
I can be hungover while I write
I can balls up in the edit
I can max out my credit
I can sleep through the day
I can act even more gay
I can say what I’ll want to say
Because nobody will know me
And that thought really scares me
And that’s what really thrills me
And I hope to God it’ll be what fulfils me
And even if it doesn’t
Having a clean slate should be fun
Sure, I’ll be the old guy, the twenty-one
Amongst eighteens
But in between all the caffeine and the baked beans
I can at least be free
Instead of trapped, not working to the full
Instead of wrapped in cotton wool
Like I have been for oh, so long
Maybe I’m totally wrong
Maybe it’s not me
Maybe it’s not my “scene”
But anything’s worth a go
If it seems like it could be better than this hole
Better than thinking and writing it all down with this pen
Dammit,
I wanna be a student again!
And three years since I stopped it
So technically I should’ve finished by now
But instead I’m only just ready to begin.
Hey, it’s not my fault my brain wasn’t in the mindset of your average eighteen-year-old
I was just doing what I was told
Fitting in the mould
Out in the cold
Helplessly watching this sequence of events unfold
The world was waiting for me but I wasn’t ready for the world
So I just popped down the road for a bit instead
But now it’s three years on
And I am really really glad of where I am now and what I’ve done
But really, honest and true
I’ve done what I’ve done and now I wanna do what I wanna do
I need to cut this dead-end job
Of monotony
Going out of my mind, I might need a lobotomy
Maybe look to astronomy
To decide if I continue with my work in the field of cinematography
In a place where I could do crazy shit like getting drunk and playing Monopoly
...’til 3am
And yes,
I’d like to be poor
And be in debt
And live in a box room
That I’ve just got to let
And bump into people in the halls who I’ve never even met
And have a multitude of good times I’ll never forget
Except, of course, excessive amounts of alcohol will unfortunately force me to forget
But it’ll be the best
I can be pissed all the night
I can be hungover while I write
I can balls up in the edit
I can max out my credit
I can sleep through the day
I can act even more gay
I can say what I’ll want to say
Because nobody will know me
And that thought really scares me
And that’s what really thrills me
And I hope to God it’ll be what fulfils me
And even if it doesn’t
Having a clean slate should be fun
Sure, I’ll be the old guy, the twenty-one
Amongst eighteens
But in between all the caffeine and the baked beans
I can at least be free
Instead of trapped, not working to the full
Instead of wrapped in cotton wool
Like I have been for oh, so long
Maybe I’m totally wrong
Maybe it’s not me
Maybe it’s not my “scene”
But anything’s worth a go
If it seems like it could be better than this hole
Better than thinking and writing it all down with this pen
Dammit,
I wanna be a student again!
The Grand Proof-Read of 2011: I'd like it to be known that this is pretty much the original starting point of my ventures as a writer. A slightly amended version of this garnered a fairly positive response in an early Creative Writing seminar in my first year of University, some two years after this was written.
Friday, 18 September 2009
Why Can't People Take A Day Off From Shopping?
I only ask since I would prefer a day off from working!
Anyway, enough of peasant life. Bring on the rant about nothing.
I really actually have nothing to say here. Then again I always begin by saying I have nothing to say before reeling off paragraphs of crap that suddenly seem to occur in my brain and travel down through my fingers and into the appropriate corresponding letters and symbols in order to make them make sense... or not make sense as the case may be.
But since it's past the midnight hour and the folks would like to queue up for their shopping at 9am on the dot, I'm afraid I shan't be staying long. It's just too much to keep my eyes from closing.
I just wanted to keep this place barely alive and un-neglected as I so often do with it, and hope to give this place a big boost before the end of the year when (if all goes as planned which it never does because plans [especially plans made by me] oft go a wee bit fooked up) I hope to FINALLY be able to create and post video clips to the Tube of You, thanks to an almighty super-computer with the appropriate capabilities to do such things.
Until then, my channel looks fairly empty, apart from several favourited videos (made by other people who aren't me, don't ya know?) which include what appears to be the German version of "Spitting Image", that video we did for college where I end it trying to sell vodka whilst having suffered the detrimental effects of a pitch-changer, and that one from a Russian documentary with a drunk guy in the background staring at the camera and falling over.
All this joy (and more, yes I've favourited more of this shite) can be found here, this link, you know... this purpley bit which redirects you to another corner of the Web if you click on it... go on, click on it.... it won't bite.
Anyway, enough of peasant life. Bring on the rant about nothing.
I really actually have nothing to say here. Then again I always begin by saying I have nothing to say before reeling off paragraphs of crap that suddenly seem to occur in my brain and travel down through my fingers and into the appropriate corresponding letters and symbols in order to make them make sense... or not make sense as the case may be.
But since it's past the midnight hour and the folks would like to queue up for their shopping at 9am on the dot, I'm afraid I shan't be staying long. It's just too much to keep my eyes from closing.
I just wanted to keep this place barely alive and un-neglected as I so often do with it, and hope to give this place a big boost before the end of the year when (if all goes as planned which it never does because plans [especially plans made by me] oft go a wee bit fooked up) I hope to FINALLY be able to create and post video clips to the Tube of You, thanks to an almighty super-computer with the appropriate capabilities to do such things.
Until then, my channel looks fairly empty, apart from several favourited videos (made by other people who aren't me, don't ya know?) which include what appears to be the German version of "Spitting Image", that video we did for college where I end it trying to sell vodka whilst having suffered the detrimental effects of a pitch-changer, and that one from a Russian documentary with a drunk guy in the background staring at the camera and falling over.
All this joy (and more, yes I've favourited more of this shite) can be found here, this link, you know... this purpley bit which redirects you to another corner of the Web if you click on it... go on, click on it.... it won't bite.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Getting Spherical In The Cube
Unfortunately I was rather horrified at what I was watching since the X-Factor got upped to live auditions, nay but seven days ago.
So there I was, thinking my Saturday nights of televisual pleasure would be ruined for this autumn. Luckily I was saved by the orange face of Philip Schofield and the "credit crunch" Crystal Maze of the future. And no, I don't mean in a crazy-ass 'futuristic zone' kind of way. I mean where all the games take place in a giant perspex cube using the same props and features supery-dupery amazing slo-mo camera technology which makes the whole thing look like it was lifted straight out of The Matrix. Because without the super technical tomfoolery, the games are essentially "THROW A BALL INTO A BUCKET!" or "PRESS A BUTTON AT THE RIGHT TIME!!" and even "WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE!!!"
What I love about "The Cube" though, is how seriously the show takes itself when it's quite clear how... erm... what's the right word to use here.... 'CRAP' the show is! The booming voice adds too much seriousness to the tackiness of the game. Even when the contestants run out of lives (you know, like Mario) the evil voice, which is known as "The Voice Of The Cube"... apparently (despite the fact its just some guy in the back with a Dalek voice-changer and a crazy-ass echo effect), booms out "Contestant Defeated!" They might as well just make it a game of Life or Death meaning that once they run out of 'lives' they literally run out of life, hearing The Voice Of The Cube booming out the last words they'll ever hear, "Contestant Annihilated!" before some freaky gas gets released into The Cube and the contestant just dissolves right before the audience's eyes!
Might be fun to watch several times over in super slo-mo Matrix mode too.
So there I was, thinking my Saturday nights of televisual pleasure would be ruined for this autumn. Luckily I was saved by the orange face of Philip Schofield and the "credit crunch" Crystal Maze of the future. And no, I don't mean in a crazy-ass 'futuristic zone' kind of way. I mean where all the games take place in a giant perspex cube using the same props and features supery-dupery amazing slo-mo camera technology which makes the whole thing look like it was lifted straight out of The Matrix. Because without the super technical tomfoolery, the games are essentially "THROW A BALL INTO A BUCKET!" or "PRESS A BUTTON AT THE RIGHT TIME!!" and even "WALK IN A STRAIGHT LINE!!!"
What I love about "The Cube" though, is how seriously the show takes itself when it's quite clear how... erm... what's the right word to use here.... 'CRAP' the show is! The booming voice adds too much seriousness to the tackiness of the game. Even when the contestants run out of lives (you know, like Mario) the evil voice, which is known as "The Voice Of The Cube"... apparently (despite the fact its just some guy in the back with a Dalek voice-changer and a crazy-ass echo effect), booms out "Contestant Defeated!" They might as well just make it a game of Life or Death meaning that once they run out of 'lives' they literally run out of life, hearing The Voice Of The Cube booming out the last words they'll ever hear, "Contestant Annihilated!" before some freaky gas gets released into The Cube and the contestant just dissolves right before the audience's eyes!
Might be fun to watch several times over in super slo-mo Matrix mode too.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Nursery Rhyme Mash Up!
Inspired by others, merging the musical stylings of "The Wheels On The Bus" with that one which goes "three in the bed and the little one said roll over"
Oh, the wheels on the bus said "cross over, cross over"
So the wheels rolled over and the wheel fell off.
There were six on the bus and the little one said "roll over, roll over"
So the bus rolled over and one fell out,
There were five on the bus and the baby on the bus went "wah wah wah,
wah wah wah, wah wah wah"
The baby on the bus went "weh weh weh"
All day long
There was five in the bed on the bus on the bed
And scary girl on the bus went "whisk whisk whisk,
whisk whisk whisk, whisk whisk whisk"
Oh, the scary girl in the bed on the bus on the bed with a whisk said "roll over, roll over"
So they all rolled over and one fell out
And fell into the toilet with a "whisk whisk whisk,
whisk whisk whisk, whisk whisk whisk"
There were four in the bed on the bus on the bed
And the baby on the bus went "roll over, roll over"
So the bus rolled over and one got whisked
And the wipers on the bus went "swish swish swish,
swish swish swish, swish swish swish"
Oh, the wipers on the bus got "swish swish" whisked
All day long
Oh, the scary girl with the whisk in the toilet in the bed on the bus on the bed went "OMG! I'm a scary girl with a whisk in the toilet in the bed on the bus on the bed! MWUNYAHA!"
"whisk whisk whisk,
whisk whisk whisk, whisk whisk whisk"
While the baby on the bus went "wah wah wah"
So they all rolled over and the whisk fell out
And I forgot how it ended so instead
I just got whisked down the toilet by the scary girl.
Oh, the wheels on the bus said "cross over, cross over"
So the wheels rolled over and the wheel fell off.
There were six on the bus and the little one said "roll over, roll over"
So the bus rolled over and one fell out,
There were five on the bus and the baby on the bus went "wah wah wah,
wah wah wah, wah wah wah"
The baby on the bus went "weh weh weh"
All day long
There was five in the bed on the bus on the bed
And scary girl on the bus went "whisk whisk whisk,
whisk whisk whisk, whisk whisk whisk"
Oh, the scary girl in the bed on the bus on the bed with a whisk said "roll over, roll over"
So they all rolled over and one fell out
And fell into the toilet with a "whisk whisk whisk,
whisk whisk whisk, whisk whisk whisk"
There were four in the bed on the bus on the bed
And the baby on the bus went "roll over, roll over"
So the bus rolled over and one got whisked
And the wipers on the bus went "swish swish swish,
swish swish swish, swish swish swish"
Oh, the wipers on the bus got "swish swish" whisked
All day long
Oh, the scary girl with the whisk in the toilet in the bed on the bus on the bed went "OMG! I'm a scary girl with a whisk in the toilet in the bed on the bus on the bed! MWUNYAHA!"
"whisk whisk whisk,
whisk whisk whisk, whisk whisk whisk"
While the baby on the bus went "wah wah wah"
So they all rolled over and the whisk fell out
And I forgot how it ended so instead
I just got whisked down the toilet by the scary girl.
Sunday, 9 August 2009
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).
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.
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