Monthly Archives: September 2010

Packing, lists, forgetfulness, things like that

Howcome every single time I have to pack my bag – which is quite often, at least compared to how it used to be – I have to sit around and think about it for nigh-on some minutes? It should be a simple case of routine, knowing what I want to take, knowing what to put in the bag, not thinking about it and just going pack-wild.

But no, I have to sit here and think about things. In fact, I’m going to make a list. I’m going to make a list for a bag of stuff I have to take just about everywhere I take bags of stuff. Pants is one thing on the list – why will I write that down? What’s wrong with my tiny mind? If I could just get a mental imprint of the list then maybe things would be easier.

It won’t work like that though, and instead I’ll probably forget something really obvious. Like pants, even though that’s the second time I’ve mentioned them this entry. Either that or I’ll write a perfect list, pack the perfect bag of things and then spend the remainder of the evening thinking of more throwaway blogs I can write. Yeah, probably that.

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My feet have gone mental

It would appear that over the last year my feet have gone mental. See, I purchased a pair of trainers around my birthday last year, they lasted just under a year before I had to get rid of them as they were quite literally falling to pieces. I had to buy different shoes – as if you expected anything else.

I have now bought three different pairs, and only one of them have managed to not rip my feet apart. One pair were actually rubbing away at my foot to the point I think it would have got down to the bone if I’d have continued to wear them. The pair that didn’t hurt me, and were actually comfortable, were really shit and made me look like more of a nong than normal.

So I bought a third pair, reverting to type and getting the Converse I seem to have been wearing forever. But something’s gone wrong. They’re hurting my foot, necessitating plasters. I cannot blame the trainers, as the brand/type has never caused me any harm in the past, so I must jump to the next logical conclusion: my feet have gone mongy and weird.

I reckon it’s probably down to the different air pressure down here in the south of the country, which has clearly caused my feet to inflate. Either that or the mineral composition of the tap water around here, so different as it is to back in the north, has made my feet explode with some kind of watery-gout-death thing. Or something.

That’s the only thing it could possibly be.

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It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia: you should watch it

It’s a show where a small, angry, bearded man threatens “I will smash your face into a jelly!”. The person he is threatening is a 10-year-old child. It’s a show where a father forces his son into becoming a prostitute in order to pay off a debt to the mob (“No rules”). It’s a show where issues like Israel and the Palestinian territories or North Korea are tackled in… none-too-subtle… fashions. And the new series starts this week.

I love It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia. I wouldn’t claim it to be the best comedy show Of All Time Ever, but I would claim it to be refreshing in how little it cares for the usual standards of decency and how it balks at the usual American obsession with schmaltz. It also abandons the normal US concept of having characters with any redeeming qualities whatsoever – these people are arrogant, idiotic bastards. But you still love them. While swearing is still out of the question (except in the excellent Christmas special) and nudity is a no-go – it is still American TV, after all – it really is a show where… I don’t want to say this, as it always sounds twatty… but it’s a show where no topic is taboo.

Dumpster babies, the financial crisis, drug addiction, suicide, abortion, gun control, steroid abuse, setting Sweet Dee on fire and many other things I can’t think of right now. It’s always good. It’s always funny. It’s not necessarily clever, but it can surprise with its subtlety at times. The rest of the time it’s just a sledgehammer of ‘laugh like a wanker’ comedy that I can’t get enough of. It’s perfect drinking comedy, it’s perfect sober comedy and – though it’s not perfect comedy – it’s really bloody good.

I’m very much looking forward to its return, and I recommend it heartily to any and all. Here’s Charlie singing a motivational song, in order to motivate you to watch the show:

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An example of idiots on eBay

I love eBay – enough to write it in the stupid form they insist it’s written in. I love it like I the electronic, internet-based child I’ve never had (also this child carries out online auctions, I forgot to mention). It’s great for so many things – and one of them is for studying how twatty, idiotic and altogether rubbish people are.

As a result of picking up a few Amazon vouchers recently, I wondered if there was a market for them on the auction site. Obviously, seeing as they’re not human organs, prostitutes, drugs or anything else deemed illegal by the eBay overlords, there is.

Now Amazon vouchers are just that: vouchers. You get a voucher for £30, it’s worth £30. £50? It’s worth £50. Now this bit’s where it gets complex – £100 vouchers are worth one hundred pounds. Still with me? Okay then, let’s continue.

So why on earth are all of the current Amazon vouchers for sale, bar one or two, going for more than their face value? Someone is honestly offering to buy something worth £100 – and it is worth £100 – for more than one hundred pounds (remember how much I said they were worth? Just checking). Granted, this is pence over the hundred mark, and I haven’t seen anyone offering £5,000 for a £2 voucher, but… it’s just fucking stupid. It makes no sense. I don’t see why people would do it.

Yes, this has genuinely annoyed me. I’ve looked on Amazon and it doesn’t look like they charge any kind of premium for gift vouchers. It’s £100 for £100. I do not understand these idiots.

Anyway, back to being a curmudgeon. Oh wait – I never stopped.

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A grab bag of gaming news

There are many things reported on by the gaming press under the guise of ‘news’, and it seems a great deal of things fall under this apparent guise. In order to cover my news output for the next few weeks, I’m going to write up a few different basic stories that I can easily edit into workable, useable ‘news’.

Not that I’m saying gaming news is shit, predictable or ‘not at all news’, or anything.

Story One: Michael Pachter, analyst for Morgan Freeman’s analysis of stuff to do with money place, said RECENT/UPCOMING RELEASE will prove to be a FAILURE/SUCCESS, selling A LOT/NOT A LOT of copies. This will mean PUBLISHER will feel GREAT ABOUT THEMSELVES/SHIT. This professional guess is based on absolutely nothing at all, yet has been reported all over the internet as if it has some kind of relevance to anything that’s going on in the world.

Story Two: NEW GAME has, shockingly, been reduced by a massive supermarket chain so it hugely undercuts all other outlets across the country – nay, world – coming in at around 50 per cent of the RRP. While some may claim reporting this amounts to very little more than a thinly-veiled (and probably unintentional) bout of advertising, it isn’t. Oh no siree, not this. This is news. NEWS.

Story Three: DEVELOPER OR MARKETING FACE OF COMPANY has made the bold, yet irrefutable claim that SOMETHING THEY ARE ABOUT TO RELEASE/SOMETHING THEY HAVE RELEASED AT ANY POINT IN THE PAST is the only thing that can do the thing it’s made to do. This is because it’s the only thing made to do the thing that it does. All the same, this is a bold claim and one definitely not made to get any kind of fanboys whipped up into a frenzy. Definitely not.

Just a quick, late (failed) attempt at comedy that I definitely didn’t think of ten minutes ago.

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What were you doing the day air travel was ruined FOREVER?

Nine years since September 11, eh? Well, not since September 11, but since 9/11. And by that I don’t mean November. I mean the thing they call 9/11, because of the… try again: nine years since the terrorist hijackings and attacks on New York and Washington, as well as the failed attempt that went down in Pennsylvania, in what the world has come to know as the September 11 attacks, or 9/11.

There, that was easy. Ish.

So what were you doing on that there day that genuinely did change more than my tiny brain could see it ever changing back when it happened?

Ah, using a major incident of terrorism for a lazy, obvious blog entry. It’s what the dead would have wanted.

I was on my way to Sheffield with a few friends, mere days away from going to university for the first time ever. Ignorant of the wider world around me, I received a text from my brother on my Nokia Oldsmobile (probably the phone I’m still using now, I don’t pay that much attention). The text dispassionately informed me of a terrorist attack, which I then relayed to my friends. We then relayed this to the people sat near us, then they told two people, then they told two people etc. etc. Ah, informing carriages of thousands of deaths: exactly why mobile phones were invented.

Anyway, we got to Sheffield and instead of actually doing the mindless shopping we would normally do, we went and stood in various TV shops and watched the whole thing unfold/collapse. It’s unsurprising to say things were strangely quiet around the city, and I’m sure people stopped and looked up in panic when a plane flew over.

Anyway, that’s a really boring story. So much so I’m bored of writing it. Nothing much happened. It just made people talk to each other more than normal, therefore meaning terrorism is clearly great. It brings people together.

I could probably get a whole separate blog out of what’s changed in my life since 9/11OR11/9, but that would just be “what happened over nine years: in blog form”. Probably not the best thing to read. Probably even more boring than this.

(Side note: September 11 conspiracy theories are fucking brilliant/hilarious, and you quite literally can’t search for anything about the attack without some insane – insane – shit popping up and amusing you. Well done, kooks.)

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I am officially scared of more than just volcanoes

I have come to a startling conclusion – something that, three days later, I have only just realised. See, I flew back from Sweden on Wednesday (as I’m sure I may have mentioned a few billion times), and while on the flight I found myself, without realising, gripping onto the armrests quite tight as we landed.

It’s official: I’m genuinely scared of flying. This is a turn up for the (shit) books.

When I was a nipper we would go flying a lot, as we went on a fair few holidays. I’m not going to make the same joke I made back in January, so I’ll just leave it at that. But it’s safe to say I was not fearful as a child – full of the confidence of youth as I was. Well, some confidence of youth. Well, a pale imitation of the confidence of youth.

But still, I wasn’t scared – that’s the important part. In fact, I loved flying. I thought take-off was the best bit, I loved gawking out of windows and I adored landings for how you… well, for how you came closer to the world again. It was ace.

But then I didn’t fly for years – about eight of them – and in that time I became a fully-grown (fat) adult. As well as (fat) adult features, I had also grown into a state of fear about life – or more precisely: fear of how many things could kill me. I was okay on this first flight in years as I had other, more scared people to calm me down through their idiocy.

But since December I’ve flown a fair few times this year. I’d go so far as to say a lot, actually (13 times, with at least two more to come by early January). And each time, rather than getting better at it, I seem to be getting worse. Hence the gripping incident.

That’s all I have to say about it today. Come back tomorrow when I won’t be talking about it. YEAH.

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