Tag Archives: whining

Uplifting, isn’t it?

Well it’s taken a weekend and two-and-a-half days off work for me to get to the point where I’m bored. Not normal bored – I’m fine with that. No, this is the kind of bored where you feel like you’re not using the time properly.

You feel you aren’t using it properly because you’re not doing anything could “could and should” be doing. Part of the reason for that is starting new things scares you, but the main part is because you’re so bored you can’t see beyond the boredom into the world of bliss that could await you on doing something different.

That, or you’re even lazier than first thought.

So it is you sit there playing a pinball game for hours and coming to this blog about seven hours after you first opened the Word file. What could have had real time and effort put into it once again turns into a throwaway train of thought piece.

But it isn’t just the blog. Entire days to do something. I’m never going to be the kind of person who likes to go for walks, at least not when there’s no point to it or no person/dog to walk with. Going to the shops would depress me in innumerable ways. The thought of bothering to exercise fills me with the anti-glee.

I can’t even be arsed starting a game which I would have more than enough time to blitz through.

I should sit down and start something. Write something. Do what I’m supposed to be half-decent at.

But I’m too bored to be bothered.

Uplifting/10

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Illageddon: Day One

Day one of Illageddon (not in the Beastie Boys fashion) and it’s going… well, let’s just say it’s going. I’m not dead yet. There’s still fight in this salty* old** seadog***. It’s trying to get me down – to make me quit. But I won’t.

The sniffles have never been able to take me out completely, and I’m not about to start letting them now. Even if they are really annoying.

The night was tough. There were parts where I thought, nay – feared – I wouldn’t make it through. The tossing and turning, the restlessness, the inability to sleep more than about three hours all night… it was bad.

But nothing could prepare me for the horror of when I eventually did pass out – and let’s not mince words here: that is what I did. On awaking, again, something was amiss. Something was wrong. Something was – as they say – ‘not right’.

I wouldn’t have believed it had it not happened to me, frankly, but there it was plain as a Bulgarian pin-up****. I was on the wrong side of the bed. Not at an angle, not only slightly – I was completely on the wrong side of the bed.

This hasn’t happened in a long, long time. I didn’t know what to do. I was already delirious from illness and fatigue; this was the last thing I wanted.

But I managed. I got out of it. I got to work. I managed to get through a mere two packets of tissues. I dragged my carcass to the shop and was able to purchase plenty more tissue-shaped supplies. I will get through this.

But I still haven’t had enough sympathy for my plight, which sickens me, frankly.

*Only when I’ve been sweating.

**Not compared to people who are older than me.

***I am genuinely afraid of the deep sea, though I do like boats.

****This joke, stolen from Red Dwarf, doesn’t work these days as we know all Eastern European women are beautiful.

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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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This is probably about the 20th filler entry I’ve posted here

323 posts down, this is number 324. I tell you, for someone as utterly inane, boring and pointless as myself, to have come up with 323 things to write about is nothing short of a fucking miracle. But I’ll be honest – it’s getting difficult. I’m finding it harder and harder to come up with something to write.

You see, I don’t just write things that I think people will enjoy reading – I want to write about something I’m actually bothered enough to write about. This makes things difficult. If I just wanted to write things you all cared about it would be opinions on the X Factor, or something. Possibly a witty bit of script related to your favourite TV show that isn’t the X Factor – the Apprentice.

See, I don’t find that interesting. I want to write about things that really matter enough to me to get a reaction out of my brain. You know, real subjects like farting, or buying turn-based 4x games on the cheap. None of your pop culture shit here, oh no.

But away from the facetiousness, it is getting to be a bit of a chore filling this out every day. The reason you’re getting this today is because I have a twat of a headache and couldn’t think of anything else to write, so I’ve fallen back on whining. Again.

41 left to go, then I never have to think of any topics ever again, and can retire into a life of luxury. Fattened, of course, by the massive advertising revenues this whole escapade has pulled in… what do you mean there are no ads here? And that nobody donated to my minimum-£1000 Paypal fund? Motherf…

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No time for a picture, I’m too busy whining

I am just going to spend not many words here predicting what will happen in my attempts at sleeping tonight: my headache that I currently have will prove too annoying for me to sleep for ages. As I have no painkillers I will have to tough it out.

When it subsides I will still not be able to sleep as it is too warm in this room, then I will be uncomfortable as the bed is quite small. Then I’ll remember I’ve left the window open and will be able to hear all the awful people outside going about their stupid business.

I am tired and crotchety. Hush down. It’s all clearly for effect.

For you see, I am in Sweden for the second time this year as a result of work. This makes me happy as before this job/year I had never been to Sweden, and now I have been to Sweden twice. Granted I have a bitch of a headache and won’t get to see everything this rather nice place has to offer*, but it’s still great.

Whining over. Ish. Headache. Grr.

*Who am I kidding? If I came here of my own volition for some kind of holiday I would go nowhere, do nothing and simply find a single bar to spend all my time in.

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