Conversationalist

Speaking of reference books, I'd also like a pocket book of things to talk to taxi drivers and workmen about, to save me having to end every sentence with the word MATE.

It's not fooling anyone :(

Writers Block

Christmas is a bad time for me, as I have to do a lot more writing in cards than I'm accustomed to. I struggle to write anything in cards at all, usually spending on average 10 minutes trying to think of something witty or thoughtful to say. After that I look at what everyone else has written and try to amalgamate them into something fitting. Then I wonder if plagiarism should be tolerated in cards, and decide that it's a slippery slope downwards from there. I always give up and write something insensitive like "I hated you anyway" (if it's a leaving card) in the hope that the next person in line for the card spots it and accidentally laughs.

I would like very much to be given a small pocket reference book of acceptable things to write in cards, indexed by occasion. That would be a good present.

Spoiler

It's taken 6 years for the Sopranos to reach it's dramatic conclusion. Here it is:




Wow.

Just One More Thing...

I'm sick of all this Madeleine Mcann nonsense. What's the first thing you notice about her when you see a photo of her? Her massive eyes, that's what. Who needs eyes? The blind, that's who. I think it's fairly obvious who the main suspect is.


Peter Falk is harvesting children to replace his glass eye with the real eyes of young British children. Call Interpol. He may be trying to sell his new "spare" eye on the international human organ black market.

No Part for You, Chief O'Brien

I forgot all abut my blog for awhile there. I've been caught up with watching series six of 24, which fills me with a sense of comfort that you can only get by watching Jack Bauer murder principle characters, illegally torture suspects, have affairs with other peoples wives and cause international "incidents".

He's literally been caught having an affair every series up to this point. His brother's wife, Paul Raines wife, that Salazar brothers wife with the fucked up nose... all bets are off for next series, it could be anyone. That's the real reason why Bill Buchanan left CTU, and the reason George Mason flew the bomb into the desert. It's probably why Tony Almeida became an alcoholic too. Actually wasn't Nina going out with Tony in the first season when Jack was messing around with her? Christ.


All in all a good effort, especially from Doctor Bashir, who gets a score of Deep Space 9 out of 10. Intense.

The guy from Ghostbusters 2 was a bit of a shit though.

Palmersville.

Clearly a euphemism.

Stupid Ironside

Following a discussion in North regarding a TV detective themed fancy dress party (which was purely hypothetical), we somehow ended up creating our own character. After all, EVERYONE can't go dressed as Ironside. It'd be a fire hazard.

Knowing that every TV detective these days needs some sort of schtick, we put our heads together and came up with a homeless detective. Imagine all the adventures a homeless detective could get up to. He could witness all kinds of crimes from his curbside vantage point; rapes, murders, old men exposing themselves to young girls, more rapes, people selling industrial secrets... it could go on for 7 seasons easily. Unless somehow people get sick of watching a show about a homeless man who sees a lot of people getting raped.

Also, in traditional 'flawed hero' style, he's a mean drunk who used to have a gambling problem. And he hits women. Today's youths will really identify with a character like that.

Success.

2097 Words

In this country, if I went to a major tobacco company with ideas like these for their "stop littering" campaign, I'd get strip searched by their security guards for Jeremy Beadle's hidden cameras as they removed me from the premises. If I took them to Japan Tobacco inc, I'd get paid fuck loads of money and I'd have offers of no-strings attached sex from 18 year old girls who model at car shows. They really are years ahead over there.

Note to self: move to Japan and forget everything you learned in A level media studies.

Diary of a Broken Xbox

Step By Step Instructions On What To Do When You See The Red Ring Of Death

Day 1

First thing you need to do is panic. Turn it off, then turn it on again. Panic some more. Check the wires at the back, which of course are fine because it was working 5 minutes ago.

Next Google "red lights on front of Xbox" which leads you to the the Xbox website. The instructions here are "turn it off for 10 seconds then turn it back on". Brilliant. Leave it for the rest of the day and get drunk instead. During this period it's normal to keep panicking, interspersed with periods of sorrow and regret. You'll keep remembering games you were in the middle of finishing, high scores on guitar hero, rankings on Rainbow 6, your place on the global leaderboard for Bomberman Live. All of these things may or may not be lost forever, and will require more drinking if you're going to sleep tonight.

Day 2

Wake up hungover and instinctively reach for the Xbox controller, which due to wireless functionality is kept permanently on your bedside table. Feel anger at Microsoft when the realisation hits you that it's dead. Spent the rest of the day denying that you're bothered, as you've barely played it for ages anyway. You'll probably need to drink some more so go to Tesco and buy some alcohol, and probably cigarettes. Later that day, have the sudden idea of unplugging it then turning it back on after 10 seconds (this is the kind of thinking that might get you a job at Microsoft customer support), before deciding that it's clearly never going to work, doing it anyway, and hating yourself for being right. Again. You'll need to text your friends to break the news, at which point you'll discover that most of them don't care in the slightest.

Day 3

Check the website again to make sure you've not missed anything. You haven't. Pick up the phone and call customer support. The person on the other end of the phone has a weird accent, try not to spend too much time figuring out where they're from; you're going to need to concentrate. This is an important call. They'll ask you to turn it off and wait for ten seconds before turning it on. Consider suggesting to them that they need a new angle of "support", but instead explain that it's been turned off for 2 days before doing it anyway. Fail for the rest of the call to understand anything that's going on, except the 5 minutes it took just to give them your email. They'll instruct you to wait for an email which will contain a UPS mailing label and further instructions. Thank them for their help, in your most polite manner possible, before hanging up the phone. Now realise that you have no idea what you're supposed to do next.

Flux Capacitor (not included)

This might be the worst book of all time. I haven't actually read it but I picked it up in Borders once, attracted by the words "time travel" on the cover. I'm a big fan of science fiction and instantly gravitate towards certain words or phrases like a Pavlovian dog, eager to drool over the hyperbole filled synopsis. I found this story distressing however, as the final word in the title became apparent: "wife". I read the back of the book just to check.

So let's get this straight, it's not a story about a man who can travel through time, it's a story about his wife. Who can't. Now I'm no writer, but given the choice of writing a story about someone who's adventures span time itself, or writing about their chronologically impaired spouse, I know which one I'd choose. I imagine it's full of the hideously mundane things she gets up to to pass the time until her husband gets home, like the time he travelled back in time to ancient Greece, but all she did was go to Tesco to look at cheap DVDs.

Do yourself a favour and give this book a miss. I did, and I've never looked back since.

Sabotage

I'd love to know how the moustache got ruined. It used to be the manliest, most awesome facial hair in existence. In fact just having a band of hair across your upper lip was all it took to make you look like the most virile, bad-ass, masculine bastard in the world. It was like a sign to Women Everywhere that you were so full of testosterone that it'd be dangerous to even make eye contact. At some point it all went wrong though, and nowadays at best you'd come off looking like a scout leader or some 80's throwback. Why does no one want to follow in the footsteps of men such as Burt Reynolds, Tom Selleck, or Apollo Creed for fuck's sake?!


At least Jason Lee's keeping the dream alive. When I get some time off work I'm going to grow a moustache. It'll be so fucking awesome. I bet I get a shitload of requests to be my friend on Facebook once I look like Burt Reynolds.

Edmonds, You're A Dead Man!

Fuck Noel Edmonds. What a smug cunt. There's nothing worse when your having a night out than having Edmonds spoil it all by fucking you over. I think it's high time he gave me back some of the money that he's stolen from me over the past year, on the grounds that he's a cheating bastard. I enjoy the fact that he's become a hate figure to anyone who's played that fucking Deal Or No Deal machine in the pub. One day we're going to read about how his house got burgled whilst he was away filming some Christmas special for Children In Need and we're all going to laugh, knowing that the universe has delivered it's own brand of cosmic justice.

And I hate his fucking beard.

What a cunt.

The Art of Not Sharing

I've been thinking that if there were any subject that I'm experienced and skilled enough in to be considered an authority it would have to be not sharing. I think I could write a book on it. A proper book, with lots of pages filled with words, and probably a few diagrams and illustrations thrown in. I think I've made an art of not sharing and I'm confident that I could teach others to not share as well.

Just as long as they want it. They've got to really want it.

I'll give seminars to teach people how to cope with difficult social sharing occasions, like when you go to a restaurant and everyone wants to try what you ordered, or worse still they actually SUGGEST that everyone orders communally and has a bit of everything. Here's the hot scoop, idiots, if I wanted what you ordered, I'd have ordered it myself.

The Gordon's Gin Academy

I hate the Carling Academy. Don't get me wrong, it's not due to the sound being terrible, the tickets being overpriced, the atmosphere being non-existant, nor is it due to the extra 20% that they add on to merch to make sure they make a profit from that too. I just hate Carling. Why on Earth does the Academy pick everyone's least favourite lager in the world as its sponsor? It's their mission while you're there to force you to drink the stuff as well. They have an alternative lager, Grolsch (hooray!), but every single time that I've been there it mysteriously "goes off" after half an hour and all they have left to sell is Carling. There's something going on there. Every single time. Who are they kidding?
Why couldn't it have been sponsored by a drink that people actually like, like Gin? I'd much rather go to the Gordon's Gin Academy. I bet I'd have a brilliant night in the Gordon's Gin Academy, you can just tell.

Say It Ain't So

Apparently Weezer have decided to come back from their "indefinite hiatus" and record another studio album, further soiling their reputation and distancing themselves from people who pretended to still be fans. This graph should admirably demonstrate the trend in quality for the band's releases.


What they should have done is just release a greatest hits CD and call it a day. Except they can't, because they've already released a greatest hits CD - it was called the Blue Album. Cue image of the cover for the album, with the words "Greatest Hits" crudely photoshopped onto it. Can't do it right now, I've lost my copy of photoshop and don't hang around with students, so can't get another. Small price to pay for not having to look at students all day.

Fan Fiction Is A Dead Format

I've been toying with the idea of writing fan fiction for awhile now. What started out as a joke quickly became a serious obsession, with every waking moment fueled by a plethora of monumental ideas. I forgot most of them though, and due to my fickle nature the entire concept of writing fan fiction became a bit embarrassing and I wished I'd not told everyone I know.

Fan Fiction Idea #1

Basically this story involved the band the Sugababes being drawn through some sort of wormhole into a nexus of space and time, whereby all members of the girl band (past and present, but not future) co-exist. Just like in the movie The Terminator however, nothing dead can pass through the gateway to the nexus, and so they're basically naked and you see everything. Or you would see everything, if I was given my own television show where my fan fiction ideas were serialised. I briefly flirted with the idea that all members of the Sugababes would be transported to different time periods, for instance the ginger one might end up in WW2 France ('allo 'allo style), but it quickly became obvious that this was getting a bit high brow, and might alienate the fan fiction crowd.

There you have it. That's all I've got at the moment. I did have another idea which started with Avril Lavigne being tied up in my basement, and ended with me digging an Avril Lavigne shaped hole in my garden, but I couldn't figure out what happened in between. It would have probably been sexy though, and not to be viewed by minors.

The Importance Of Being Right

June 14th

Spurred on by a 'discussion' over the correct way to hang toilet paper, I've begun phoning people at work and asking them if they subscribe to the overhand or underhand method. I tell them that I'm compiling a spreadsheet, that yes it is important, and no I don't think it's none of my business. It's not making me a lot of friends, as people have started to think I'm a bit simple, and have stopped holding the door for me in the corridor. That could be just a coincidence, but I've got this nagging feeling that they don't see the monumental importance of it all. Once I've got the results, I'm going to make some graphs. Maybe a pie chart and a powerpoint presentation too. That'll show them.



The correct answer of course is underhand.

Pointless Blog Post Of The Day

I put shuffle on my ipod on return from work today, snubbing the playlists, and it was awesome. I feel compelled to 'blog it', if using the word blog as a verb is allowed.

-Clockwise (Dan Potthast)
-Jo Jo's Jacket (Stephen Malkmus)
-Souvenir (Sick Of It All)
-Two For Flinching (Kid Dynamite)
-Oh There's Legwork (None More Black)
-Lies Of Our Lives (The Once Over Twice)
-Pints of Guiness Make You Strong (Against Me!)
-Just Like This (Mike Park)
-Facing and Backing (Hot Water Music)
-Implied Warrenty (Red Lights Flash)
-My Best Friend (Weezer)
-Eat The Meek (NOFX)
-Sad Songs and Waltzes (Cake)

This is hands down the best shuffle I've ever had, and pisses all over this morning's shambolic attempt. This has also been the most pointless blog post in recent memory, and surely signals the end of my internet ramblings. Really, if I'd spent the last 15 seconds reading this, I'd be angry.

Sabbatical

What I should have done with my two days off work:

• Cut my hair
• Taken suit to dry cleaners
• Tidied up
• Read some books
• Exercised
• Fixed bed

What I actually did:

• Played Guitar Hero 2

In hindsight it seems like a bit of a waste. :(

Need... More... Gamerpoints

Sunday the 3rd of June passed by for most people as Sundays generally do. Dinners were prepared and eaten, dogs were walked, crosswords were filled in with various degrees of success. In the upstairs bedroom of a semi-detached house in Cullercoats, Tyne & Wear, England, Planet Earth, a young man with nothing better to do than play computer games on his own performed laborious tasks, so that Microsoft would bestow upon him the sacred Gamerpoints (c). And so it was done.

I got over 5000 gamerpoints.

Its taken me ages.

Next stop: 7500.

How I Lost My Grip On Technology

This is my Blog. I'm still not 100% sure what a blog is, which brings me to the story of why I created this. You see, I used to be very comfortable indeed with modern technology. I was without fear when confronted by even the most daunting entanglement of wires and flashing lights. You could say, if you were that way inclined, that I revelled in the challenge of learning what all 50 little buttons did on any given new toy. Then one day, as all things are destined to do, it all came crashing down on the birthday of my 25th year. All of a sudden I found myself confused by terms that I'd not heard before and worst of all (and this is probably the final nail in the coffin) I found myself being shown how to operate things. By 26 I had a girl (much younger than me) show me what Bluetooth was and how to turn it on, I spent a weekend anguishing over podcasting, and was eventually asked the question by someone who assumed I'd not lost touch quite yet:

(what is a blog?)
I don't know.
(of course you do)
I really don't know.
(I thought everyone was doing it these days?)
I'm sorry.
(is it on the Internet?)
Yes. It's got something to do with typing words, then posting them.
(so it's a bit like a message board then)
No it's not a message board. Although it might be a bit. Just you're the only one who posts.
(oh right)
Don't take my word for it. I haven't got a clue.
(no it's OK, I think I'll ask around a bit)
Fuck off.

So I figured the best way to deal with fear of the unknown is to confront it. So I made a blog. And here it is, it's a bit like a message board, except I'm the only one who posts.

What's the point in that?