Monthly Archives: June 2011

(Metaphorical) weight off my chest: relieves no (metaphorical) pressure

For the first time in just over a month I do not have any looming spectre of extra work looking over my shoulder, nudging me that I should be paying attention to it instead of looking at funny pictures of hairnets. I’ve actually done all of the huge amounts of freelance I took on.

Don’t get me wrong, there will be more to come in future I’m sure – unless I’ve spectacularly nadgered up somewhere – but right now, the here and now, I am done.

But I don’t feel like a weight has been lifted. I don’t feel glad that I don’t have to spend my time outside of work doing more work. It’s quite odd. In fact, it might be my brain demanding I get more ‘lance in to sate its desires for more future-money (which will instantly disappear on unquantifiable nonsense, like ‘bills’ and ‘interest’ I HAVE NO INTEREST IN INTEREST).

Maybe my brain has taken to freelance like a Mancunian to heroin, or a Scouser to car theft. Maybe it needs that buzz. I know I thrive on deadlines and tend to turn into a useless hunk of meat when there’s no pressure on me, but I didn’t realise I could get addicted to paid homework.

Apparently I can, though. I wonder what the equivalent of methadone is for this kind of situation. Blogging every day, probably. OHNOWAIT.

Maybe it’s nothing to do with work and I’m just massively depressed* because I’m not happy with any element of my life right now, and things I thought were out of my head actually aren’t out of my head at all and are actually really bothering – and saddening – me quite a lot.

That, or I’m just a bit tired and hungry. I’ll have a jam sandwich, see what that does for the ol’ mood.

* “Slightly miffed”, in a less hyperboleic sense.

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How to make a million pounds

I have a plan to make my millions, and I’m going to let you all in on it because I’m both kind and stupid like that. It is foolproof, easy and will definitely work like a gazillion times over or something.

(I just checked and gazillion is definitely not a real number, just as I always assumed.)

Right, I’ve just been away from my computer for two minutes and now I’ve forgotten the plan. Hmm. OH WAIT, that’s the one. I knew something as mind-meltingly perfect as this could never evade my thought process for long.

Here is the plan:

  • Write some very short things.
  • Put them up for sale on Amazon’s Kindle thingy.
  • Charge the least you can charge.
  • ???
  • Profit!

It will definitely work so hard that I’ve already started making the plans on what I’m going to spend my money on. I will buy crack, and gamble it away, and more crack… and not pay off my debts. Basically it’ll be brilliant.


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Everything’s amazing and nobody’s happy

I like to complain about things, because complaining makes me feel like I have some kind of handle – some kind of control on the world around me. When I don’t. I really don’t. And the things I complain about tend to be the most insignificant nothings you could ever imagine.

The 3G on my phone didn’t work for about five minutes earlier. People nearly died because of that. My internet ceased to function for the one minute I definitely had to look at Twitter. The vein-bulge in my forehead still hasn’t gone down.

But it’s stupid. It’s not worth getting worked up about. So I’m trying to teach myself the zen of Louis CK (as introduced to me – properly – by NewDad himself, Jon Denton). This clip pretty much sums it up:

It should be the way to think. It should. But it won’t. I’ll keep on complaining when my TV – that I got for free – won’t turn on until I turn it off at the mains and back on again (taking an extra 20 seconds). I’ll keep whining when my trophies won’t sync fast enough on the PS3, or I struggle to get the hard drive back on my 360.

It’s not just me – I’ll listen to people like Bar-nes complain about Android SDKs and his computer. I’ll see people moan that too many people are moaning on Twitter, or complain that they wanted to do something then didn’t, for no reason other than they just didn’t do it.

But all the time, in the back of my head, I’ll be trying to think like Louis.

And failing.

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I saw some adverts just now, and they almost managed to be as stupid as the one where a scotch egg has sex with a bottle of orange pop. I mean, not quite, because that’s physically impossible. But these were some dumb elements to adverts that I feel the need to write about because I definitely had so many good blog ideas today. Here we go:

Warning: Toy Inside
It seems children – and parents – these days need to be both reminded that Kinder Eggs exist and that they include toys in them. I shit thee not, the small print on the advert says ‘Warning: toy inside’. In a Kinder Egg. The entire point of a Kinder Egg being that they have toys inside them. I see no warning on shampoo ads saying ‘Danger: shampoo contained within’, or make-up adverts that say ‘Attention: tested on gibbon anuses’

McDonald’s does KFC food, Burger King does McDonald’s food
So ‘should have failed a few years ago, actually massively succeeded’ McDonald’s has taken inspiration from the militaristic poultry emporium by bringing out fried chicken wraps. They sound like the most boring things in the world. And probably are. As for the eternal, royal competition, Burger King has decided to start selling chicken McNuggets.

Where’s the imagination in the most creative of industries, fast food? WHERE I AM SHOCKED OH MY GOD etc.

Malibu think people are stupid enough to do a dance they’ve cynically created for the purpose of an advert
And you know what? People are stupid enough.

This is an advertisement
When this has to be pointed out on an advert you know the world is a much dumber place than it has to be. Le sigh.

Yeah, this was all in the space of a single advert break, by the way.

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Only a Sith deals in absolutes (“only”? Sounds like an absolute to me, Obi-Wan) – also: someone with a hangover does too

I am often amused by how much a simple hangover can change my personality. While in sober-time I am capable of rational, almost normal thinking and vague (very vague) planning, when it comes to post-booze days I become a gibbering wreck of irrational thought processes and a confused pile of… umm… confusion.

My brain goes from subtle, nuanced approaches to life to some idiotic, chirruping fool that deals only in absolutes. Basically, it starts acting how Daily Mail readers’ brains act all the time – IT IS RIGHT OR IT IS WRONG, NOTHING INBETWEEN. For example, right now I am playing a game for a freelance review. It is based on a Japanese anime series, so is backed up by an incomprehensible and ridiculous story. Rather than chuckling along or forcing myself through it, my brain has decided it is literally the worst thing I have ever heard or seen.

A couple of hours ago I was tempted to buy some takeaway as I am re-fatting myself and I couldn’t be bothered cooking. Would it be something to fill the hole in my belly or would it be ALL OF THE FOOD? Fortunately I managed to see sense there and go for NO FOOD AT ALL. Absolutes, see.

Same for emotions too – when I’m hungover I get REALLY MAD at people for no reason*, or I get REALLY SAD at something that wouldn’t even register on the sad-o-meter at any other point. I don’t just feel a ‘meh’, I feel ALL OF THE MEH.

It’s quite interesting, really. To me, at least. Oh, and ignoring the headache, lethargy, inability to concentrate, dehydration, liver damage, memory loss, temptation to eat all the fatty food in the world, the fact that I nearly cried watching Avatar earlier and that I haven’t bothered showering today. Obviously.

Anyway, back to the Gundam game.

*I am aware I do this when not hungover too.

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A thrilling insight into what might be coming in future blogs

I have a lot of homework on right now, so I’m struggling to think of a topic to base this thought-burp on. As such, I’m going to look around my room at some things in it, and come up with ideas for future blogs based on the items I see. Is this post-modern? Nah, just lazy.

First thing I see is a bin: I could tell a thrilling tale of how we never used to empty the bin until someone was idiotic enough to not balance their rubbish on top of the pile correctly. As soon as something fell on the floor, the person causing the spillage had to empty the bin. Stinky Jenga.

Second thing I see is my telly: It’s… well, it seems to be on the fritz. 10 months since I got it for free, it’s developed a fault that these TVs seem to get. I want it fixed, but I really don’t want to pay money to get it done. But then, do I trust myself and my Parkinson’s-steady hands to re-solder a connection? Hmm.

Third thing I see is speakers: I hooked them up, yo, and now they’re all like totally rad with bass and shit. I’ve had these badboys for bloody ages now, and they’ve lived with me all over the country. Well, wherever I’ve lived in the country. Which isn’t all over it.

Anyway, I’m only giving you three. Feel happy about that.

And on a final note, I just pressed ctrl+v and this came out: “I cannot deny a person, a human being, a taxpayer, a worker, the people of my district and across this state, the State of New York, and those people who make this the great state that it is the same rights that I have with my wife.”


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I love the HSBC secure key it is a really good idea, like

Dear Valued Number On A List,

We are writing to you to inform you of a fantastic mandatory opportunity we are allowing you to exclusively take part in.

As you may be aware, evil criminal scum are focusing their entire, unwavering attention directly at you and your children/dog/television [DELETE AS APPROPRIATE]. You will never escape their gaze and you will never, ever be safe from their criminalistic tendencies, such is their sheer evil tenacity and commitment to nefarious deeds.

So, to help you try and somehow avoid these illegal incursions, because you’ll definitely be targeted – be afraid – we are offering you the chance to have an Irritating Extra Stupid Bloody Step In A Process Creator sent to you. Please note this opportunity is, as mentioned, mandatory.

The IESBSIAPC will allow your once-simple method of logging into your bank account to retrieve its details and see how little money you have for a hacker (who is definitely targeting you and you alone) to steal. The simple device will go in hand with our brand new, streamlined personal security features to make sure you never get that £20 in your account stolen from you. The steps are as follows:

  1. Choose a new log-in name.
  2. Choose a new password.
  3. Enter your log-in and password.
  4. Re-enter your log-in and password.
  5. Turn on your IESBSIAPC.
  6. Press the code creation button to reveal your 734-character security code (different every time).
  7. Enter 734-character code.
  8. Re-re-enter your log-in and password.
  9. Re-renter your 734-character code.
  10. Send one pint (imperial measurement) to the bank address on your separately-provided address letter.
  11. To obtain your address letter, you will need to await the arrival of your IESBSIAPC MKII, which will be with you some time in the next four years.
  12. Re-re-re-re-re-re-re-re-enter everything you’ve already entered a dozen times.
  13. ???
  14. Profit!

We thank you for your time and we will accept any and all donations you wish to send us as thanks for our wonderful efforts in making your life “easier” and making sure your money is “safer”.


Bank-o 9000


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Spare 11 minutes of your life to watch Sealab

I am too tired to write anything of vague interest now, and am going to go to bed while it’s still light outside. As a result, this blog will require you to use your eyes to watch rather than read.

This is Sealab 2021, and I honestly believe if I was ever allowed to make a TV show it would be pretty much exactly the same as this. Watch it and love it. And if you don’t love it, we’re going to have to break up. Either that or you’re just an idiot, in which case we don’t have to break up – you just have to shut up. Forever:

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A short love-in for pyjama bottoms

I cannot believe I went for so long without pyjama bottoms. I used to wear them as a child, but then opted for the simpler, quicker choice of simply sleeping in my pants. I even had a period of (MENTAL IMAGE ALERT) sleeping wang-loose through the long, lonely nights.

But at some point around five years or so ago, for some reason I genuinely don’t remember, I bought me some PJ bottoms. Turns out they make everything right with the world – comfortable and casual, they show off your attitude of “yeah, I’m not in bed, but I’m wearing them. Wanna fight about it?”

Boxers are somewhat restrictive towards leg movement, and seeing as I’m well known for my awesome spin-kicks while I’m asleep, I obviously can’t like with this kind of restrictive fabric around my thighs. No such troubles with the loose and free world of pyjama bottoms.

In fact, I’m tempted to become a hippie so I have an excuse to wear PJs all the time. I can pretend they’re made from hemp and an eighty year old woman called Moon Mooning Moonson knitted them with organic knitting needles (made from hemp). Then I can wear pyjama bottoms all the time, and the world will be better for me.

Three points to whoever guesses what item of clothing I’ve just put on.

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Jackass: one of the best shows there’s ever been

So yeah, as an easy follow-up to yesterday’s entry, howsabout a bit on why Jackass is one of the finest comedy creations out there and how if you don’t like it you have no soul? Yeah? Yeah. Because, see, it is.

I’ve got a chip on my shoulder when it comes to comedy, and I think rightly so. I cannot abide by lazy comedians whoring themselves out to an audience of slack-jawed morons with tired, clichéd routines about Stuff Wot We All Can Relate To. I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m just saying it bores and annoys me.

Also it’s bad.

Anyway, same thing for all walks of comedy. Basically: I consider myself to generally like good comedy. I know it’s subjective and lah de dah, but shut up – if you don’t agree with me you’re wrong. Wrong, wrong and wrong. And that includes about dumb crap like Jackass.

Jackass came about at a perfect time for me, starting around the early 00s when I was around the 17-year-old point in my life. Hence, a bunch of RAD DUDES doing STUPID SHIT was my idea of great entertainment. It was. It still is. Even ten years later it’s all perfectly watchable, and it will still make you laugh. Regardless of how much Chris Pontius is in it.

And I think it comes down to a these factors: first, it’s the basest level of comedy you can get. It’s physical, slapstick and involves people falling over. It really doesn’t get much simpler; second, it doesn’t matter that it’s simple as there’s no pretension behind anything in it – it’s called ‘Jackass’ for eff’s sake, and complaints that it’s base really are redundant arguments;

Third, it’s a surprisingly creative show. I mean, essentially they end up taking stupid risks, jumping off/over things, setting stuff on fire and getting their knobs out, but there’s a lot of imagination involved in how they go about doing these things. Compared to something like the risible Dirty Sanchez, Jackass always had a great deal of – for want of a better word – intelligence behind it; and finally, it was a very warm show. You could always tell these idiots were friends, that they got on well with each other. Even Bam, who is clearly a cock. The camaraderie permeated every aspect of the show, the stunts they did and the reactions to the outcomes – and it was warm.

So yeah, that’s part of the reason why I was a fan of Ryan Dunn – because he was in one of my favourite shows. Dunn-less updates restart tomorrow.

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