clubs? more like...cruds!

i am not really a fan of clubs. they make me feel old, and say things like "the musics too loud, i need a seat!" but sometimes i go, because its not where you are but who your with that matters. plus theres always the vague chance that a kindly young lass will take pity on me (only to be pitying herself the following morning) Anyhoo, heres my compilation of my own names for the clubs of the glow

Cat House -Cack house
Campus- Camp arse
garage-gay rage
sports bar- sports bra
firewater-fire crotcher
kusion-shunned
sea- semen

and probably more...

thought of the day-my ego is as big as my dong. and both bruise easily, so be gentle

shower tears

I've decided that theres only one place any self respecting man can cry. and thats in the shower (or sometimes when on the crapper, but thats just down to a relaxation of intense build of pressure) the cleansing water not only hides the single solitary tear that slides down your cheek so slowly, it also washes away any trace that you have failed to uphold your manly dignity.

in other less disturbing news. I. am. tired. so very very tired. 45 hours this week. 13 hour shift yesterday. and yet i fully intend to go ahead with this toga malarky. i've bought my sheet today and watched a useful instructional video on how to create said toga. there was also one showing how to make girls togas, but i would have felt a little perverted checking it out. so i did. the more you know, the further you go (on your first date)

on the plus i have finally got round to booking my holidays. kind of had to go around peoples back to do so but i've been asking for two months. i'm doing 25 extra hours a week and i'm failing my course for the good of the land, so woteva minga. 23rd june is the start team, so lets finally organise this damn sun sea and sangria.

thought of the day-I wish i could care about you dissillusioned success, but i'm a bit busy dealing with my dissillusioned failure.

still feeling very emasculated (as you can tell)

the lady situation

...is a bit like global warming. should really do something about it , but hey that requires effort. The Bob women parasitic symbiosis was summed up quite nicely last night. was out grabbing some air with a friend at the slightly too gothy Cathouse when, lo and behold, a foxy woman approaches. we gab away and shoot the shit with pin point accuracy and theres me thinking "looking good bob, you old hairy smoothy you" and then another girl comes up and is introduced as HER girlfriend. and i know, lesbians-woo-but i had already had my share of girl on girl action that night in the solid rock (they kept bumping into me and spilling my drink) The real stinger came when foxy girl says "You seem like a really nice guy, I wish I had a stright freind to set you up with"

so do I. so do I

thought of the-nice guys finish last-because they do special breathing exercises

NEON BUDDAH!

yesterday i learned how to balance an egg on its tip. one of those life skills that you need to know. but the main news of importance is my impending birthday (yawn) followed drunkenly by TOGA PARTY. all the old crew from back home will hopefully be coming plus a few more newer shineir and not quite as comfortably worn in friends. (and don't moan, two years just don't compare to 10) course i'm a leetle worried that A-I'll be working in the morning and 2-it'll so built up it will topple into a Babylonian failure. I bet God shoted JENGA! when he smote that anthill.

I went home and powergamed my way through gears of war in one day. because i can. and i got a free train ride home due to lazy conductors.

Superbad is awesome, just so you all know.

thought of the day-there are only 20 different people in the world, and we are all of them

theres an exam on?

had a fair trippy dream last night. had to carry a girl to the hospital who had had her throat cut out and replaced with either a bottle or a pringles tube. so i carried her into the hospital and into a female only ward, all the while trying to avoid looking at women in the throes of childbirth incase they wanted my ill suited emmotional support. i explained what happened to the dr and she told me that you had to replace throats only a little at a time. i stayed up with the girl all night making sure she was ok, and then i woke up.

and now i'm hung over for an exam.

thought of the day-i'm not you and you're not me yet we keeping trying to mould each other like two clay hands

O rly!?

Al gore invented the internet
the internet helped garner a large audience for south park
south park created manbearpig
I am not american yet i occasionally ponder on such things

...the internet turns you american!

seems iran was quite justified in their ban. still they could do a china and have slave labour play world of war craft as gold farmers who then sell on their virtual monies to americans for real money, thereby disrupting the real ecconemy AND the financial infastructure. my dads a financial advisor (i think, but by night he fights crime) so both genes and internet memes makes me right. and just like that, the capitalist pigs have their bacon cooked!

thought of the day. can your so called "science" explain the flight of a bird, the colour of burgundy, or the process of Esterification!

may be offensive

"Hey Bro"
"If it isn't my brother from another mother. I'm liking that colour co-ordination you got going on"
"Well they say brown is the new black. Though we seem to be wearing the same outfit.
"Well one of us is going to have to change. How's it hanging"
"Like a pendulum, constantly throwing me off balance. Been up to much?"
"Same ole same ole. And yourself? Still chasing pregnant women with coathangers?"
"We all need our hobbies, yours being furious masterbation"
"And I have a saucy threesome planned for tonight with Sarah and Kelly"
"I can't help but notice that you've named your hands after my Mother and Sister"
"Ah well, your dear ole mum is a diabetic"
"yes..."
"So all i got to do is catch her when she's on a sugar crash, spray squooshy cream all over my man parts and let nature take its course"
"Just how God intended...oooph"
"Did...did you just fart"
"Ah...slightly more than that I think"
"So it seems you ARE a man of the cloth after all"
"Good thing its already brown. Now if you'll excuse me I'll be off to preform a minor exorcist"

The monks went their seperate ways.

blah blah blah

I've been thinking about being angry at people and using keen observation mixed with scathingy wit to cut them all down. SMITE! its not like i see anyone enough for it to matter much. plus, i'm handsome and charming!!! i can make new friends!!! i'm already sitting at the perifferary of a number of different social circles, and they're all wide and gaping and just waiting to be thrust into.

talking bull of course, just feeling fair alienated from a lot of stuff and folk. I was not happy that on the last day of term i was working friday saturday sunday. I am not a student, i'm a bloody kitchen assistant (soo much more than a mere KP) that just happens to go to uni occasionally. thats 1/3rd of the problem-work.

2/3rd is the fact that for as long as I can remember, i've been in varying degrees of physical discomfort. it might be why i tend to (but not always) dismiss emmotional pain, both mine and others. who cares about "feelings" when your hands are missing a layer of skin and your foot feels like its about to fall off.

and C, my occasional unwillingness to do anything constructive or inductive without being instructed to. its a very strange form of laziness, as it means i can, and indeed do, work quite hard. but only when suffiecently moaned at to.

thought of the day-i hate this weather

The Painfully Awkward Transition to Manhood

All credit goes to Ross

John looked at himself in the mirror, checking that there were no errant hairs sticking out. He then blew his nose and checked that there were no errant bogies hanging out. Satisfied that this was the case on both counts, he went out of the bathroom and into his room. There he sprayed himself with deodorant, except there was only enough for one armpit. So he took out a new but different can for the other.
“Oh well, that’ll keep them guessing,” he said to no one in particular.

He got dressed in his only set of smart clothes, grimacing at how uncomfortable they felt. It had been a while since he had worn them. Maybe they were too small. He stretched his arms this way and that, making sure that the shirt looked right on him. He hated wearing shirts and decided to compromise by wearing it open with a t-shirt underneath. Anyway, as his dad was always saying the family motto was comfort over style.

Just then a car hooted its horn outside, making him jump. He rushed down the stairs and was about to put on his shoes when a voice stopped him.
“Hey,” his dad called from the living room, “before you go gallivanting off into the night, come here.”
John padded in and his dad rose from the couch with a groan, obligatory beer can in hand. He forced a twenty pound note into John’s hand, along with something else. John opened it to see what it was. A condom. He frowned at his old man
“Be good,” he was told, “and if you can’t be good, be careful. Now say bye to your mother and be off.”

He quickly went to the kitchen where his mum was doing the washing. Waiting until she rose from the machine, he kissed her on the cheek.
“Bye mum,” he said quickly
“Have a good time sweetie,” she said, giving him a look that was far too knowing.

The horn sounded again and John pulled on his shoes and jacket, debating for an instant if a coat would be necessary or not. He deemed that it was and strode out the door, calling out a goodbye as he closed it behind him.

Outside there was a large people carrier waiting for him. He opened the door and got in the back seat.
“Ya finally decided tae show up ya baw,” was his greeting from his neighbour, a stout twenty something ginger Glaswegian.
“You’re not allowed to give me cheek today, Jaffa. It’s my birthday you know.”
“Aye well, just think yerself lucky that we decided tae move the staff night out tae coincide with your graduation tae manhood”
“He’s not a man yet,” Tim, John’s boss and owner of the garage called back from the front. “But by the end of tonight he may well be.”
“Yeah, we got something special planned for you tonight lad,” added his brother Alan, who was sitting besides him. It was him that offered to take John on board as apprentice mechanic to the local garage.
“Easy guys, I don’t want to wake up with your hairy feet in my face,” John replied to the middle aged balding men. Tim reversed the car, revving the engine so that children behind them would get out the way, and they sped off.
“So, where are we going anyway?” John asked looking out the window as the scenery gradually changed from vaguely rural to distinctly urban. “Grub, pub then club?” He had thought of that earlier and was quite proud of it and the way it sounded.
The two brothers exchanged a look and laughed.
“Somethin’ like that aye” Jaffa said, smiling as well.
“Fine, don’t tell me.”

The evening started off pretty much how John imagined it though. They arrived in the city at the back end of nine and went into a pub for the aforementioned grub. Munching down on his fish and chips, John listened to them talk about football, tell racist and sexist jokes and moan about customers who, in Jaffa’s words, were “Fanny gobshites.”

Tim finished his pint and motioned to John.
“Your round is it?”
“I guess so. Same again for everyone?”
They all nodded so John collected the empty glasses and awkwardly took them to the bar. There he stood for a while, trying and failing to catch the barman’s eye before he finally came over to serve him.
“Any I.D on you mate?” he asked John, who hurriedly dug into his pocket and pulled out his driver’s licence. The barman examined it and smiled faintly.
“Happy Birthday mate,” he said as he poured the drinks. “’Fraid it’s all downhill from here on. And that will be £10.70 please.”
John pulled out a twenty and a condom, handing them to the barman. He then realised what he had done and quickly snatched it out of the man’s hand, who was decent enough to pretend not to have noticed. He tried to carry all four drinks at once, spilled some, and then opted to take them two at a time, spilling more anyway. He sat down, glad that the ordeal was behind him and feeling faintly manlier for having bought his first ever round.

“Cheers John,” said Alan. “Now listen to this. What’s black and white and red all over?”
“A newspaper?”
“An aborted zebra foetus.”
“Nice.”

Several rounds and many suspect jokes later, John was beginning to get slightly pissed. He asked Tim what the time was
“Just coming up for eleven. Which means actually, that we should be getting ready to saddle up and move out.”
“Ah, so am I now ready to find out where we’re going?”
“All in good time kid, all in good time.”

They walked out into the city, which had become dark and tinged orange with streetlights. John followed as the older men made their way briskly down the street, complaining about the sudden cold that had fallen. Jaffa lit a fag and so John amused himself by ducking and dodging the second hand smoke that blew over towards him.

Finally they reached their destination, a large yet discreet building with a small neon sign at the front reading “Katie’s”. Standing outside was a large black man in a large black coat. The group approached the door, John feeling quite apprehensive. He had never even seen a bouncer before, and was acutely aware of not being entirely sober.

“Evening gents,” he said in a deep self assured voice, “how are we all tonight?”
The group’s consensus was that they were all quite fine thanks and after a second of quiet contemplation, the bouncer nodded and motioned them to come in. Then his eyes fell on John.
“Do you have proof of age on you, young man?” he asked.
Once again John fumbled in his pocket for his I.D and once again he accidentally took out the condom as well.
Like the barman, the bouncer laughed when he saw the date and nodded him to come in with the others. They all walked up the stairs and entered a large dark room. John looked around. There were poles. There were women. And there were booths at the back. He thought he had an inkling as to where they were now

“This…is a lap dancing parlour?” he said, wondering if that was the correct terminology.
“Naw, it’s the Christian aid centre,” said Jaffa
“I wonder what my parents would say if they knew I was in a place like this.”
“Well your dad was all for when I told him,” commented Tim.
“You did?”
“Yeah well, we didn’t want to take you anywhere that your folks really didn’t want you to be. So it was only fair that we asked them.”
“Huh, and what did my mum say?”
“Somethin’ ah hope that ma own dear ole ma would never say aboot me,” laughed Jaffa
“She was even more for it I think,” Alan said.

John gave himself a mental shrug at his parents’ parenting and tried not to look at all the scantily clad women about. It was taking all of his concentration not to get an erection.
“Well lads,” declared Alan, “I think it’s time for tequila shots.” He went away and brought back four small glasses. They all took one and the three men knocked their’s right back. John sipped on his and grimaced.

They sat themselves down at a table and chatted idly for a while. John was extremely glad to no longer be standing and tried to arrange himself in a manner which would allow discretion for unwanted crotch movement. He hoped he wouldn’t be asked to get another round in anytime soon. His eyes wondered and he tried his best to finish his tequila.

It was then that he noticed all the men pull out money.
“If we’re buying drinks, no more shots for me,” he pleaded.
“We’re buying you your birthday present,” said Alan. “Now, what’s your flavour?” He pointed to a black woman in leather boots.
“Chocolate?”
Then he gestured to an Asian woman wielding a riding crop.
“Chow mien?”
Then he motioned to a Latino girl in silver hot pants, thought for a long time, before allocating her the flavour of “Brazil nut?”
“Ah, you look just like a kid in a candy store,” his brother told him.

John was actually quite scared now, but he knew that there was to be no way out of this, so he decided to grit his teeth and bite the bullet.
“Miss Brazil seems nice…”
“Aye that she does. Maybe yew’ll find out if she ‘as a Brazilian as well.”

And just like that, they waved her over and she came. They handed over the money and Alan said, “Take him to a booth yeah? I don’t want to see him spunk himself.”
“Sure thing” she said, taking john by the hand. “Come with me handsome.” Despite appearances, her accent sounded Liverpudlian. John found this oddly reassuring.
“Treat him nice. It’s his birthday!” called Tim as he was led away.

He was led into one of the booths and the curtain was drawn.
“Sit down there on that stool honey,” she said in a sultry professional voice. “And keep your hand behind your back at all times. If you want, I’ll tie them.”
“N... No thanks,” John said, quickly complying. There were sweaty padded holds there, which he clung on to desperately. In the top corner, a light came on and she began.

She knocked his legs apart with hers and ran her hands down from his face to his chest to his thighs. She moved her body into him and slowly took off her top and then her red lacy bra. The moment was ruined a bit when John realised his mum had been holding the exact same bra earlier on. It was quickly regained when she began rubbing her breasts and leaning ever closer to his face.

Christ thought John, breathing in short gasps. I think I’m about to…He tried to turn his head away from her, but she choose that moment to grab his hair and pull him towards her. And that’s when he sneezed all over her. She jumped back in alarm and swore, then stood dumb at a loss what to do now. The light was still on.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” John said. “Here, I’ve got a handkerchief in my pocket.” He pulled it out and gave it to her, along with the condom, which fell to the floor.
“Ummm, thanks,” she said wiping herself. “Do you want me to start again?”
“No thank you…look, can we just talk or something. I feel like I’ve been thrown into the deep end here, and I’m kinda drowning.”
The topless woman laughed. Clearly talking was a novelty value for her.
“I guess so…so, what do you do?”
“I’m an apprentice mechanic at a garage.”
“Oh,” she said, smiling. “I do mechanical engineering at City College”
“Cool. So this is a part time gig?”
“Yeah well, I have to support my family as well and this is the only place I could make enough money to do both.”
“Well that sucks.”

They talked away for a few moments about life and John was amazed at how much more human she was than he ever expected her to be. Then all too soon the light went out.
“I’m sorry, we have to go now,” she told him. “I’ll get yelled at if I’m not back on the floor. But I want you to know that you’re a really sweet guy.”
She leaned in and kissed him very lightly on the lips. And in later years, when the subject of first kisses came up, John always had the best story.