Monthly Archives: July 2012

License to ill

It may seem odd I am doing this blog so early today, but I am off work with my body rebelling against me and I do not want to have not done the blog later and I do want to be able to sit on the settee all day feeling sorry for myself and watching Star Wars.

So there’s that.

I was, for a long time, one of those people who eschewed the use of pills and potions to make oneself feel better. I opted instead to tough it out and live through the illness, thus becoming a better person on the other side. A lot like Bruce Lee, in many ways, is what I’m saying.

Also like that Adam & Joe sketch I can’t be arsed finding.

But then I had an epiphany, and that epiphany was shaped like some painkillers, or maybe those Lemsip tablets (but not Lemsip itself as that stuff is foul), and I took some, and it made things feel less bad, and then I went back to bed.

Which is what I’m doing now.

Pray for Mojo.

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Wanda and the lustossus wow that’s a bad pun even if you know what I’m on about

I am in that wonderful place right now where very little feels real. I had an active weekend, by my standards (as in, I left the house more than once) and last night’s sleep doesn’t seem to have been enough sleep if the fact I was falling to sleep in front of my work computer (but did not in actual fact sleep) is anything to sleep by sleep zzzz what?

And every time I feel like this it’s accompanied by the hazy feeling of wanderlust. I want to go places, see things, do stuff, la de dah.

Now normally I’d go into this and proclaim it the impossible dream as I am broke and don’t have the time to do anything at all ever, so I will. Actually, nah, I won’t. Because I’ve won a billion pounds so can do anything! Actually, nah, I haven’t.

But I will talk about how I find it interesting that fatigue and the recent memory of a good time is often accompanied by an almost-burning desire to up sticks and fuck off somewhere else. What does that say about me? I have my C in GCSE psychology backing my brain up, but even that powerhouse of a qualification doesn’t help me here.

It’s odd.

Still, looking at flights to America for later this year is definitely going to make me feel better and won’t at all piss me off that I can’t go.

Hah, ungrateful swine.

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Good weekend; backed hard

I am very tired right now, and it’s not even 8pm. Seems that’s the way it is when you hit 29. But it also seems other things happen when you’re 29, including (but not limited to):

-Scoring a goal.

-Getting double-dollop ice cream and walking along the pier as it melts like a bastard all over your hand and nearby German girls laugh at you as you stroll past frantically licking your own paw.

-Being unable to skim any stones, at all, no matter how many you throw.

-Scoring an own goal.

-Shouting at people for celebrating a 30th birthday in the same pub you’re doing the less-landmarkish 29th.

-Having fun.

-Getting mystery t-shirts that turn out to be from your dad making a joke about Rotherham United’s new ground.

-Falling in love with another barmaid (beautiful and give you booze: LOVE LOVE LOVE).

-Getting sent wrestling paraphernalia as a present.

-Stopping writing a blog so you can order pizza because SHUT UP I EARNED IT FOR BEING NICE TO PEOPLE.

Good weekend; backed hard.

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I’M 28! Oh wait

The saddest thing about now being 29 is the fact I can no longer quote Jake from Adventure Time with any real conviction when he says “I’m 28!”. It doesn’t have the same softness that adds to the humour when it’s 29. That’s a harsh age. Harder. Sharper. Not as welcoming.

Plus I can’t listen to Pretty Boy Thorsen’s 28 Yrs with any honesty in my ears, because… wait, I can because they lyrics about ’28 years of fucking up’ still apply.

Ah, that’s alright then.

Other than that I can think of very few drawbacks. As such I’m not going to complain, unlike some people do when it gets to their nameday.

Shit, too much Game Of Thrones.

Today is beach, beaching pursuits, sitting, eating, drinking, probably eating bad things, doing stuff. I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to be a real person by 29?

Hmm. Ah well.

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Vast opening

Mr Bean was funny, the Queen and James Bond thing was a better idea than anything else, I missed the majority of it but have seen some highlights, looked okay. I’m on about the Olympics opening ceremony.

But I’m not going to whine about the tremendous waste of money it is. Even though it is. I’m not going to complain more about the games themselves, or how the ‘spirit of the games’ is simply to line the pockets of those already rich enough to become LOCOG bed buddies.

No, I’m going to wonder aloud about the flying swan-bikes.

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

What the hell were the flying swan bikes

That is all. Still: fuck the Olympics. I’m 900% less patriotic after that.

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That’s a fancy dress

It’s the work summer party tomorrow, which means one thing (it doesn’t it means lots of things but still shut up): fancy dress.

It may shock you to know I am not actually against the idea of fancy dress. In fact, I’m all for it. Whatever – do it. Dress like a prick. Or Iron Man. Though there’s a deal of crossover there.

But, as those attending said party will see for themselves tomorrow, I do have some rules when it comes to fancy dress for myself. Namely these:

-Do not use shop-bought costumes. What’s the point? It’s boring, and it means you’re wearing something some other prick has worn to another party at some point. Even if you are going as Tony Stark in his metalman suit, make it yourself. Even if it’s shit, at least you can laugh because who cares you made it yourself shut up I’M IDAHO.

-Do not put much effort into your costume. Because for all the way you might impress people on the day, nobody cares soon enough. Not even by the next day. Within hours the magic, the lustre is gone and you’re left with an impressive-looking ton of cardboard and sequins to waddle around in for the next god knows how long.

-Always break the first rule if it means you don’t have to put in as much effort as if you didn’t break it. See: my costume this year, which is shop-bought but also lacks effort. The perfect combo, really. When I saw the first rule didn’t have to be broken at a friend’s bad taste party a few years ago, I was glad to turn up with a coathanger wrapped around my head because it was easier than buying anything. It works both ways.

These are the rules of fancy dress. Obey them, or die. Also: blacking up – is that still totally cool when you play dress-up? Or has Mary Whitehouse and the fat cats at city hall ruined it for us god-fearing citizens who just want to ruthlessly mock minorities? It’s party political broadcasting gone mad.

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The Dark Knight Rises other review 7 on 10

I would re-review The Dark Knight Rises, but for one my wonderful first review, and two, you can just watch this, even though I don’t really have any love for Mark Kermode:

I can’t be arsed doing more words. I don’t like how Zoe BREATH Ball BREATH dares to have an opinion, though. She’s an idiot.

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