Wednesday 16 November 2011
I wonder...
If anyone will read this. If they do then i've started a new project, called realistic ladies confess. Imagine if the bullshit confessions you found in nuts magazine were not written by lonely old men and instead had some actual correlation with the real world. Then burn it, piss on it and what you got left is what I wrote
Thursday 7 April 2011
the king of lames
the mouse is keeping me up again so i have set the trap under my bed. i don't think it'll fall for it but i do think the lingering smell of a slow dark death might keep it away. see it's one of those humane ones that don't kill. problem is it was being kept in my folks garage for a few years and no one ever noticed the last mouse caught in it until a partially decomposed skeleton was poured out.
maybe it ate its own feet for feed. maybe not
i can see it right now in fact, its not very good at hiding.
today was spent on the serious business of childrens card games and i'm both slightly proud and ashamed to say i came up top trumps. also i got marginally drunk on scummy whisky and made midnight pancakes for one, on account of the fact my lovely lady is back on her little rock. little tip to all the men here-chicks don't dig it when you call them quaint peasant farm girls.
the moon looks like a toenail and the streetlights make it seem lacking in calcium. last time i looked it was full and i was drunk. i think we tend to look up more when we're on the hooch. but only when outside. inside we look down and pretend that we aren't wanting to be looked at ourselves.
its staring at me again, tail raised like a scorpion. better not sting
maybe it ate its own feet for feed. maybe not
i can see it right now in fact, its not very good at hiding.
today was spent on the serious business of childrens card games and i'm both slightly proud and ashamed to say i came up top trumps. also i got marginally drunk on scummy whisky and made midnight pancakes for one, on account of the fact my lovely lady is back on her little rock. little tip to all the men here-chicks don't dig it when you call them quaint peasant farm girls.
the moon looks like a toenail and the streetlights make it seem lacking in calcium. last time i looked it was full and i was drunk. i think we tend to look up more when we're on the hooch. but only when outside. inside we look down and pretend that we aren't wanting to be looked at ourselves.
its staring at me again, tail raised like a scorpion. better not sting
Thursday 24 February 2011
TVs work the same as windows
Here's a trick
Build a wall, up and up
and all the while pretend
it was someone else
laying the bricks.
Then peer through the cracks
and notice that no one
absolutly no one
is trying to look in.
Be mightily offended
at such vicious indifference.
It's crueler than showing
an elephant a picture of a whale.
But probably easier to forget.
Put a roof on the wall
cut a door, windows (TV's work the same)
Get a job, marry maybe (Cats almost work the same)
fill your box with shit.
Forget
who built these walls.
Just cover them with shit
until they're gone and forgotten.
Build a wall, up and up
and all the while pretend
it was someone else
laying the bricks.
Then peer through the cracks
and notice that no one
absolutly no one
is trying to look in.
Be mightily offended
at such vicious indifference.
It's crueler than showing
an elephant a picture of a whale.
But probably easier to forget.
Put a roof on the wall
cut a door, windows (TV's work the same)
Get a job, marry maybe (Cats almost work the same)
fill your box with shit.
Forget
who built these walls.
Just cover them with shit
until they're gone and forgotten.
Wednesday 23 February 2011
the day of a thousand posts
Well guess who had an extremely productive day on facebook, and conversely an extremely unproductive day in the real world. Some might even be so bold as to suggest a tentative link between the two.
That first question was of course rhetorical, my own personal favourite linguistic and literary tool employed by those old greek dudes. screw you hyperbole emos, you think everything is the end of the world.
My mother asked me what MILF stood for today. "Man I love facebook!" i said, before telling her. There do seem to be a lot of them kicking about lately, kicking toddlers in arm, causing their slightly bigger than average boobs to jiggle in the cold september sun.
On holiday currently, making the burden of free time even heavier on these broad manly shoulders. Atlas had it easy. Giant TV's and impromptu drinking are my current distractions. Trying to keep up with this as well, but liquor comes out easier
Isn't it awkward when not smart people try to talk smart to you. Is this a confession or condemntaion?
That first question was of course rhetorical, my own personal favourite linguistic and literary tool employed by those old greek dudes. screw you hyperbole emos, you think everything is the end of the world.
My mother asked me what MILF stood for today. "Man I love facebook!" i said, before telling her. There do seem to be a lot of them kicking about lately, kicking toddlers in arm, causing their slightly bigger than average boobs to jiggle in the cold september sun.
On holiday currently, making the burden of free time even heavier on these broad manly shoulders. Atlas had it easy. Giant TV's and impromptu drinking are my current distractions. Trying to keep up with this as well, but liquor comes out easier
Isn't it awkward when not smart people try to talk smart to you. Is this a confession or condemntaion?
Monday 31 January 2011
skit
"How do you do it?" he asked his flatmate, who had once again kept him up with the curious noises of lovemaking.
"Do what?"
"Sex up all those ladies. that's like three in seven months!" Such statistics were considered impressive in their small circle of the world.
"Well without giving away too much, the penis plays an important role."
"I don't want technical deatails. It's the intial negotiations I wonder about. How do you get a woman from A," he jestured outside. "To B" he jestured to his room. "To C" he jestured to his C.
His flat mate smiled knowledgeably, and pulled from his pocket a small packet of tissues as if they were Excalibur.
"This is the key my friend," he declared proudly.
"It is?"
"Can you not tell why?" The tissues were branded even more emphasis. Further examination revealed them to be balmed with aloe vera. Beyond that, all was hidden.
"No? Then let my words paint a glorious picture in your minds eye. Imagine. It's late, your walking down the street. People have been out, drinking, partying, disagreeing. You spy a girl. Oh no she's crying! She had a fall out with her friends. Ha! Friends indeed. No one understands her. Now, Give her the tissue. Let her dry her eyes. You whisper in her ear "I do."
He was stunned. It all seemed so evil, and yet so plausable. Women did cry. On the other hand it wasn't brief liasons he was after. Maybe there was some other way he could help a chick out.
He felt inspiration strike him. There were a few other things women did as well.
"I think I feel a plan of my own coming on." he said.
The next time his flat mate saw him he had a black eye.
"That's one hell of a shiner. There a story to go along with it?"
"I tried doing your thing, but instead of targeting vulnerable drunk women with tissues, a far safer option, I tried my luck with agitated coffee shop girls and their possible need for tampons."
He gently dapped his nose with one such offending article.
"On the plus side, they're surpisingly good for stopping bleeding."
"Do what?"
"Sex up all those ladies. that's like three in seven months!" Such statistics were considered impressive in their small circle of the world.
"Well without giving away too much, the penis plays an important role."
"I don't want technical deatails. It's the intial negotiations I wonder about. How do you get a woman from A," he jestured outside. "To B" he jestured to his room. "To C" he jestured to his C.
His flat mate smiled knowledgeably, and pulled from his pocket a small packet of tissues as if they were Excalibur.
"This is the key my friend," he declared proudly.
"It is?"
"Can you not tell why?" The tissues were branded even more emphasis. Further examination revealed them to be balmed with aloe vera. Beyond that, all was hidden.
"No? Then let my words paint a glorious picture in your minds eye. Imagine. It's late, your walking down the street. People have been out, drinking, partying, disagreeing. You spy a girl. Oh no she's crying! She had a fall out with her friends. Ha! Friends indeed. No one understands her. Now, Give her the tissue. Let her dry her eyes. You whisper in her ear "I do."
He was stunned. It all seemed so evil, and yet so plausable. Women did cry. On the other hand it wasn't brief liasons he was after. Maybe there was some other way he could help a chick out.
He felt inspiration strike him. There were a few other things women did as well.
"I think I feel a plan of my own coming on." he said.
The next time his flat mate saw him he had a black eye.
"That's one hell of a shiner. There a story to go along with it?"
"I tried doing your thing, but instead of targeting vulnerable drunk women with tissues, a far safer option, I tried my luck with agitated coffee shop girls and their possible need for tampons."
He gently dapped his nose with one such offending article.
"On the plus side, they're surpisingly good for stopping bleeding."
Thursday 20 January 2011
strangers taste the same as friends
I'm feeling a lot better now, and have shifted from sickness to being merely lazy, which makes for very little observable difference.
My parents house is starting to feel less like home and more like, well my parents house. Maybe it's just boredom and the contrast to the amount of shit you can get up to in the big smoke, or the fact that the little niche of routine I used to have no longer exists. Either way its no great sadness, just the opposite. Means when the time comes to do the lame nesting thing (no time soon!) it'll be easier to settle. Maybe homesickness went with the flu.
We tried to plan my brothers stag today (Best man by the way! If in name only) and I'm given to believe he wants something neither too grand nor sordid. It'll come as a relief to some and perhaps a dissapointment to others, but at least wheels are vaguely in motion, and will probably complete their revolution before the actual wedding-which would be a black mark on any best mans record. Unfortunatly the bride to be has issued an official ban on hermaphrodite strippers, which shoots to shit all previous plans.
I saw Up today and between that and toy story 3 (screw star wars and lotr THIS is the trilogy) Pixar have done a lot to re-open those dusty dry ducts in my eyes. The first 5 minutes in particular really took me by surprise as nothing like it was hinted at by trailers, but its probably one of the greatest, truest prologues ever. No shit or bull included.
Also saw a couple episodes of angel. God damn what a great show, and nerdy wesley was soooo much better than "cool" "sexy" "brooding" wesley. What will those clowns at marketing dream up next?
My parents house is starting to feel less like home and more like, well my parents house. Maybe it's just boredom and the contrast to the amount of shit you can get up to in the big smoke, or the fact that the little niche of routine I used to have no longer exists. Either way its no great sadness, just the opposite. Means when the time comes to do the lame nesting thing (no time soon!) it'll be easier to settle. Maybe homesickness went with the flu.
We tried to plan my brothers stag today (Best man by the way! If in name only) and I'm given to believe he wants something neither too grand nor sordid. It'll come as a relief to some and perhaps a dissapointment to others, but at least wheels are vaguely in motion, and will probably complete their revolution before the actual wedding-which would be a black mark on any best mans record. Unfortunatly the bride to be has issued an official ban on hermaphrodite strippers, which shoots to shit all previous plans.
I saw Up today and between that and toy story 3 (screw star wars and lotr THIS is the trilogy) Pixar have done a lot to re-open those dusty dry ducts in my eyes. The first 5 minutes in particular really took me by surprise as nothing like it was hinted at by trailers, but its probably one of the greatest, truest prologues ever. No shit or bull included.
Also saw a couple episodes of angel. God damn what a great show, and nerdy wesley was soooo much better than "cool" "sexy" "brooding" wesley. What will those clowns at marketing dream up next?
Monday 17 January 2011
Back in the saddle...
...with malformed buttocks.
And like all good habbits, keeping a regular blog has been damn easy to quit. First there was the excuse of graduating and becoming a real person, then the excuse of homelessness, and finally the excuse of no internet (probably the worst of all!)
All of these are gone now (I'll never really be a real person I don't think) and so all that is left is to pull the finger out and initiate operation BEBO-no not the poor mans facebook but the idea of blogging everything and blogging often, and something I totally came up with myself cause i'm the smart one of the family.
there aren't many exciting new things happening to me right now. I live in a flush new flat with a good friend and a mouse and we do typical guy stuff involving games, beer and degrading women (that mouse is so damn sexist) I still have my shitty job that i've been quitting for the last 2 years and a very wonderful and patient better half. I also currently have the flu-not its lesser man shaped variety but the real deal, and the excess mucas has made other things flow in an equally viscous fashion, like this damn blog post. I'm sure I used to find writing a lot easier than i do now-after all I have a degree in the thing and plans to do a pokemon masters in it. Everything comes a lot slower now, except time which is shooting by pretty quick.
Yet lately I have grown sick of my convalesence (wordplay!) and so we have this mess returning to the interweb and hopefully a showing of more ficticious scenarious. After all the orginal ill conceived and partially aborted plan was to delve into the seedy world of online competitions, so maybe i should enter with earnest.
smart witty things to say have dried up like my right nostril so i think its time to leave and excavate
And like all good habbits, keeping a regular blog has been damn easy to quit. First there was the excuse of graduating and becoming a real person, then the excuse of homelessness, and finally the excuse of no internet (probably the worst of all!)
All of these are gone now (I'll never really be a real person I don't think) and so all that is left is to pull the finger out and initiate operation BEBO-no not the poor mans facebook but the idea of blogging everything and blogging often, and something I totally came up with myself cause i'm the smart one of the family.
there aren't many exciting new things happening to me right now. I live in a flush new flat with a good friend and a mouse and we do typical guy stuff involving games, beer and degrading women (that mouse is so damn sexist) I still have my shitty job that i've been quitting for the last 2 years and a very wonderful and patient better half. I also currently have the flu-not its lesser man shaped variety but the real deal, and the excess mucas has made other things flow in an equally viscous fashion, like this damn blog post. I'm sure I used to find writing a lot easier than i do now-after all I have a degree in the thing and plans to do a pokemon masters in it. Everything comes a lot slower now, except time which is shooting by pretty quick.
Yet lately I have grown sick of my convalesence (wordplay!) and so we have this mess returning to the interweb and hopefully a showing of more ficticious scenarious. After all the orginal ill conceived and partially aborted plan was to delve into the seedy world of online competitions, so maybe i should enter with earnest.
smart witty things to say have dried up like my right nostril so i think its time to leave and excavate
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