I'm going to Hell

I recently read this article. In it the female author complains how men aren't growing up like they used to, how they're underachieving. Men should be less adolescent and do more mature activities, instead of playing Halo 3 with your buddies you should be 'packing leisure hours' with the following grown up pursuits:

1. Shopping
2. Traveling
3. Dining with friends
4. Getting your hair done
5. Having sleepovers

Of course these pastimes seem like infinitely more mature activities than 'playing basketball with your buddies, downloading music, playing on your xbox360, then going out to bars and parties', after all it's not like I haven't been doing her list of activities since I was 7 myself. Well except for the sleepovers, but I did use to have house mates. The list she's deriding is pretty much the same as hers, just a male equivalent, none of these activities are 'mature', surely by that she means something like visiting museums and art galleries, reading dusty books and wine tasting.

I suspect what she's really upset about is that men just don't want to get married and have children. Oh no, what a disaster, she can't find a man. This doesn't make them immature or in need of growing up. What are the advantages to getting married? Companionship? Men have friends, as she pointed out. Sex? Also as she herself said, men are capable of finding this without being married. A family? Men can have children later in life, so what's the rush. Basically men have no incentive to get married. Unless you call getting divorced, losing your kids, money, car and house like over 50% of marriages an incentive.

By the way I'm getting married in just under 8 months, I'm 25, I have a job, an apartment and four games consoles, how immature am I?

Update: Looks like this is becoming a trend, get some more gamer hate here.

Labels: assholes, family, friends, horror, rant, stupidity, wedding, women

Have you ever wished for a flying car? I know I have. But just give it a bit of thought, how great would flying cars really be? There would have to be so much associated technology developed along with it to even make it feasible as a mode of transport. Not to mention the fact that you'd have to find a method of propulsion smaller and safer than blades of metal spinning around at head height.

Here's five problems with the idea I came up with off the top of my head:

1. Fuel expense
2. Lack of suitable parking
3. Mid-air collisions
4. Driving tests would be impossible
5. Car trouble could be fatal

I think the first problem to overcome is cost. The cost of fuel (nuclear or otherwise), the cost of insurance (crash protection, unscheduled landing cover), the cost of learning to fly, the cost of renting a landing pad, the emotional cost of scraping your daughter up after she slams into a building while applying her makeup.

It seems that the flying car is a dream that is destined to never be realised. Sure we may see flying cars, the same as we see helicopters, but they will be owned by company CEOs, and piloted by trained chauffeurs. Come to think of it, it would probably be safer and cheaper all round to invent the jetpack. Or rocketboots!

Labels: comedy, driving, fun, science, stupidity, teenagers, women

Everyone needs a little box of comebacks, for those times when people just hurl abuse at you, like at breakfast. At times like that your sanity relies on you being able to whip out an appropriate put down which will silence your assailant. This is especially important when your a kid. I went to a boarding school and bullying was so common it was just a way of life. Everyone was a bully, including me, it just depended how good you were at it.

The bullying wasn't as important as your counter, or as we referred to it 'banter'. You had to have a comeback ready, and if you weren't quick enough to come up with one to suit the occasion, you used one of the many standard retorts:

1. So's your face.
2. I am rubber, you are glue.
3. That's what your (girlfriend/Dad/Mum/Sister/Dog) said.
4. A 'Your Momma' joke.
5. Your Mum's dead.

A lot of the time we just insulted each other to say hello, so a good your momma joke was an appropriate response. However if someone really pissed you off you could use 'Your Mum's Dead'. This was the childhood equivalent of the modern nuclear weapon, mutually assured destruction. The 'Your Mum's Dead' answer could be taken one of two ways: The first would be a standard counter-retort, and an argument that would probably just escalate into the ridiculsphere, where insults no longer make any sense. Of course you could end up with the second way, when your assailant's Mum is actually dead... Chances are that will not end well.

Labels: assholes, comedy, history, stupidity, teenagers, UK

Nostalgia is a funny thing. While I revel in stuff from my past and relive great experiences there's always the times when you realise just how crap everything used to be. For example there's a lot of computer games I've tried again which are just rubbish, films that are totally unwatchable, food I'd rather use to waterproof my attic than eat again. There's also Thundercats the Movie.

Nostalgia is probably a billion dollar pound industry now. The reason for this is the liberties people take with your most treasured childhood memories. Here's a few examples:

1. The Wicker Man
2. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
3. Rollerball
4. The Italian Job
5. The Star Wars Prequels

It's true that I've only listed films, but this is mostly what I come across nowadays. I could just as easily have listed song covers, or remade children's cartoons. However films are probably where you are most likely to see this. Hollywood remakes are shockingly awful. Sure every now and again they'll pull out 'The Magnificent Seven', but then you'll also get 'Alvin and the Chipmunks', or 'The Grudge', or 'Psycho'.

Now it's a free for all. Anything is game. We are so hard up for original ideas everything is being remade or given a sequel. Doom got a new game AND a film. I don't have a problem with exploring an idea, or putting it in a different country/time period/planet/all of the above, or at least making it good. As long as people realise not everything is going to be as good as bringing back Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles again.

Labels: assholes, crap, films, nostalgia, shame, stupidity, suckage

It's been quite a while since I've had to try and pull a girl. I've been with the Wench for so long it seems like forever (Eight years, I didn't forget, it was a joke! Not the face!), so I've not had much use for chat up lines. Of course before I met the Wench I never had to resort to such vulgar tactics, being the suave lady killer that I am.

Below are a few of the worst chat up lines I've ever had the misfortune of hearing. And when I say hearing I don't mean they were tried on me, otherwise I may very well have not been single when the Wench came around. Here they are:

1. Fat Penguin? (It breaks the ice!)
2. If you were snot I'd pick you first.
3. You might not be the best looking girl here, but beauty is only a light switch away.
4. My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in.
5. Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?

I did in fact lie before. Not about being a debonair casanova, that was all true, but about never using a chat up line. In my extensive experience it's always best to get the object of your affections on your good side, and this may involve getting her to smile. Of course this requires a certain amount of guess work as to whether or not you'll get a positive response, and which line to use. Even the tried and tested 'Can I buy you a drink?' is a chat up line, so most men at some point have used a line.

I wouldn't recommend using any of the gems above, although a variation of the first featuring a chubby polar bear did get me a smile once. As far as the others are concerned it's probably best to be complementary, even if the line is so cheesy it's funny. I'd steer clear of offering to let a girl sniff a rag in your hand, rape humour is never popular, you'll probably end up getting maced, and let me tell you, that stuff stings!

Labels: comedy, crap, drinking, friends, fun, stupidity, wench

In case no one knows about it yet, I feel the need to point out that it is actually National Novel Writing Month (It should really be International, but whatever). I really should have said this before the month started, so if you wanted to you could join in, but I'm selfish like that, I didn't want you stealing my glory.

I've wanted to do this for a few years, so this year, despite not being any more prepared, or with more time than any other year, I took the plunge and signed up at NaNoWriMo.org. Here's five reasons I shouldn't have done this:

1. It's 1,666 words a day, the number of the beast!
2. I hardly write in my blog.
3. I don't have a plot.
4. I'm as easily distracted as a chubber* at a buffet.
5. I can't actually write.

The basic premise is that you spew out 50,000 words in one month. It is an incredibly rough first draft that you can then do whatever you want with. Even if that is storing it away and calling yourself a writer for the rest of your life, which is what I plan to do. I'm struggling a little at the moment though, having just crossed the 4,000 word mark last night, while I'm supposed to be at around 10,000 by the end of the day. Yeah... that's not gonna happen.

To give you an idea of the sheer stupidity I've got myself involved in, and just how much of a plot I don't have, my book will feature: Angels, demons, rats in armour, skinned vikings, ghost Romans and possibly freaky dead orphans. Sounds great doesn't it? It's also not supposed to be a comedy, as it's intended for adults. An example of just how much I intended this to be for adults occurred in my first day of writing:

The Wench: "So what's happening now?"
Me: "Well, my main character is a girl who's just about to be raped in a mental hospital."

I'll let you all know when I get it published!

*After searching Urban Dictionary for known meanings of 'chubber' I thought I should point out I'm not talking about a hardening penis, but am in fact referring to a fat person. That's another of those UK-US mix ups like what you call 'chocolate' we call 'inedible swill'.

Labels: NaNoWriMo, orphan, Rats, religion, stupidity, UK, US, wench, writing

There's very few thing's I find more frustrating than modern civilization's fascination with 'celebrities'. I don't mind it about people who are actually famous, but who cares about someone whose only claim to fame was that they were on a game show over four years ago. And they didn't even win!

The worst thing about this is the magazines I see in newsagents and supermarkets. They obviously sell, otherwise there wouldn't be so many of them. I don't see why people need to know this sort of information about these people, or why there's such a market for this crap. Here's the worst offenders:

1. Glamour
2. Now
3. OK!
4. Closer
5. Heat

I hate these magazines. It's pure shit disguised as journalism. If I want to know about celebrity news I'll just read The Superficial instead. It's not that I care about what is being written, I just think that it's written in a funny way, which actively encourages you not to care.

However the thing that makes me ashamed is when a new magazine comes out and I ALREADY KNOW WHAT'S IN IT. I've already read about it. I am more up to date on irrelevant celebrity knowledge than most of the girls I know. Sure I don't actually know that many girls, and the last thing the Wench read for fun was our tickets to Metallica, but it makes me feel like I need to scrub out my brain with steel wool. It seems like that could only make me smarter. Otherwise pretty soon I'll be impersonating these muppets: carrying round small dogs that can't walk for themselves, checking myself into rehab at least once a day, then getting my kids taken away from me. Not that I have kids, but I could adopt some. That's cool at the moment as well though, yeah?

Labels: assholes, crap, shame, stupidity, suckage, wench, women

I noticed in the news the other day that a strange looking Zorse had been bred in Germany. Now I didn't know about Zorses, but isn't that a cool idea? Cross breeding different species is definately something that should be looked into a bit more. We already have Wolphins and Ligers (bred for their skills and magic). Here's a few more to think about:

1. Giraffe + Camel = Giramel
2. Peacock + Eagle = Peagle
3. Fox + Skunk = Funk
4. Shark + Salmon = Shalmon
5. Chimpanzee + Gonorrhea = Paris Hilton

Imagine some of these creatures! Limited only by your imagination you could be Dr Moreau, but without Val Kilmer's bad acting. The beautiful Peagle, good looking, but a vicious killer, kind of like me. The animal so cool it inspired a musical movement: The Funk. Or the majestic Shalmon, massive and tasty, leaping up waterfalls and eating bears.

Seriously though, genetic experimentation comes at a price. For every Cheetorse (Cheetah-Horse), there is a Slake (Slug-Snake). Not every mutant is useful or amazing. Just look at your TV, any number of talk shows ranging from Jerry Springer to Oprah are right there, providing support and a purpose for failed experiments from all over the world.

Labels: comedy, fun, horror, science, stupidity

I've traveled a little in my life, not enough that I'd call myself 'well traveled', but more than the average person. In the course of my travels I've often been mistaken for different nationalities. This is mainly because I'm in that particular country and people just assume I'm from there. It's not that big a deal when the people don't speak the same language as you, as you can't really notice accents unless you speak their language really well, so generally you just shrug, smile and speak louder and slower.

So the times I've been mistaken for being a different nationality, people have guessed that I'm:

1. American
2. Canadian
3. German
4. Irish
5. Australian

The first two were in random countries, with the locals assuming I was from Canada or the US as I spoke English. The third I was actually in Germany and someone started speaking to me in German. Luckily I actually know a little German, so I got him to speak for me (sorry, that was a bad Dad pun). I do actually know some German though so I didn't have to resort to the usual obnoxious foreigner routine.

The final options cropped up while I was taking my year out before going to university. I was working in Canada at the time, in a gas station. I'd just served some random Canadian dude and he looked at me strangely and said 'I like your accent, you Irish?'. I could probably have excused this, but as my accent sounds about as similar to Irish as it does to a seven year old Russian I couldn't help but say 'No, I'm English'. The man shrugged and replied 'Ah well, same thing'. Now in case you don't know, Ireland and England are entirely different countries, sure we talk English, but so does South Africa, it doesn't make us the same. So to demonstrate my point I dangled in front him: 'I guess if your American it sounds pretty similar'. 'I'm Canadian', came the proud reply. As Captain Canuck totally feel for the setup I swooped in with my reply, 'Ah well, same thing'.

Sometimes it's fun being an obnoxious foreigner.

Labels: Canada, stupidity, tourists, UK, work

I used to be into Big Brother, not in a big way, and it would always take me some time to get into it. I hated the first few weeks, you watch everyone go in and comment on how annoying they are, and the first night is terrible. Everyone just gets drunk, and you can't hear anyone speaking, it's just noise. Loud drunk people talking over one another, I may as well go down the pub. That's also pretty much what goes on for the first few weeks, everyone is loud, there's too much to follow, as there's too many people.

Once the crowd has thinned out a bit and the most annoying have been booted out the house, getting booed mercilessly by the waiting crowd, that's when I'll get into it. But after the first few years, it got even worse. Now I go out of my way not to watch it, for the following reasons:

1. The pointless 'surprises'
2. The bitching
3. The stupid contestants
4. The fact they all think we care after they've left
5. Charley

Basically in this country the 'contestants' are always picked based on breast size, sexual preference and shock value. So you can expect at least 60% women, 40% gay, 30% freaks and about 75% mental. This guarantees hysterics, relationships, break-ups, cliques and at least 17 bitch fights a day between the incredibly nasty and petty 18-23 year old girls they dig out of the nearest shopping centre.

Above all else this woman is the perfect example of everything I hate about Big Brother. She is, and I quote "A self-proclaimed 'it' girl, Charley likes shopping, money and going clubbing at celebrity hangouts." And her Life Philosophy is: "Celebrity, celebrity, cash, celebrity." She has never had a job and gets her money from her cousin, who plays football in the Premiership in the UK. She the most annoying person I have ever had the misfortune of seeing on TV. Her voice grates on my brain like I just face planted onto a blackboard teeth first. Her personality makes me want to punch through her face and pull out her intestines so I can use them to tie her to a post in the middle of Pete's Rabid Bear Emporium. Thank God she's been evicted, now I can get on with forgetting everything about her, as even her cousin has practically disowned her, after seeing what a terrible excuse for a human she is. All I can say is I'm so glad I've got Bravo now so I can watch Sports Disasters, or When Sports Go Bad so I can see idiots hurt themselves instead.

Labels: crap, drinking, horror, Sky+, stupidity, suckage, TV, UK

I hate government or military speak. It's the kind of talking where the speaker could say what they wanted to much simpler, but decides to throw in a bunch of big and possibly made up words. This makes the speaker feel big and clever, and the ordinary person listening think he's a giant cock. Generally I see people who use words like this as condescending fucktards.

I don't do this that much as I often run out of big fancy words and end up repeating myself, saying the wrong word or just making up my own words, like George Bush (but on a good day, with a slow autocue that's spelt phonetically). A few examples of words like these are below:

1. Irregardless
2. Pejorative
3. Obfuscate
4. Egregious
5. Behooves

I am aware that irregardless isn't actually a word, but it is used rather a lot considering. In fact irregardless is exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about. It's a word that is nonsensical sorry, I mean, makes no sense, but people still use it to try and sound clever, they probably heard someone say it on TV. Or just tried to make a smaller word larger to sound more impressive.

To be honest I've only ever really heard these words from TV. Like speeches on the news, or in films where a drill instructor is trying to be intelligent, or an officer is talking to his grunts. I first heard behooves in Tigerland, and then on the news in Iraq. It's not capacious, and it's not sagacious, and you won't cogitate that I'm more perspicacious than I really am because I used a thesaurus.

Labels: assholes, crap, grammar, stupidity, TV

It's been about 3 weeks since I last posted. I do have an excuse for a large part of that time, as I was away on holiday in Spain, visiting some of the Wench's family (she's not Spanish, they just live there). Since returning we've had a bank holiday in the UK, so that's even more time off. In fact I've only worked a few days in 3 weeks, and been pretty busy while at work.

Anyway, I'm back now (for a few days at least) and ready to tell you the truth about Spain. I'd gathered that the Spanish are fairly lazy, what with their siestas and the building site that is their country. There's also a lot that I'd been told that had misled me about Spain, but on the other hand some of what I'd been told was totally correct:

1. It's not as cheap as I previously assumed.
2. Young Spaniards have a death wish when driving bikes or quads.
3. The food is as good as you've heard.
4. It's not as warm as everyone says.
5. It's an entertaining drive back to the airport.

During my time in Spain the Wench's parents paid for most of it. Put it this way, we spent £36 for the whole trip. And I'm glad we weren't paying, because it's not as cheap as everyone says! But the food is worth what you pay for it. I loved everything I ate on that holiday, even the lead paint had a nice tang. The weather however, was supposed to be excruciatingly hot. During our time there, the UK had much better weather than we did. The six hour storm on the final night was impressive, but not quite what I was expecting.

I was designated driver on the trip, with the Wench, her brother and step-brother sharing the car. I nearly killed 3 Spaniards over the holiday, all on dirt bikes or quads, driving at ridiculous speeds in the middle of the road. After listening to the kids of the village roar up and down the main street all night I decided if I did actually hit one of them coming round a corner, I'd probably just laugh at his broken skull poking through my windscreen.

On the final night the four of us that had been sharing the car went on a mission to get wasted. We succeeded admirably, with the Wench's step brother throwing up over the balcony before bed and again the next morning. As we were up in the mountains it was a 45 minute drive to the motorway through winding roads up and down steep inclines, ideal for any hangover. It took 5 minutes till the first passenger was sick (the Wench's step-brother), followed by another (the Wench's brother). The two of them then went into full puke overload, going continuously till we hit the coast. This meant I couldn't use my wing mirrors or else I'd be sick, getting a prime view of them hurling from the windows. It was like they were egging each other on, setting each other off again and again. I had puking in surround sound. 'Vodka' became a magic word, capable of inducing vomiting even by whispering it. The outside of the car was in quite a state by the time we reached the airport, so we threw the key to the hire car across the desk and ran. Luckily it wasn't in our name.

Labels: drinking, driving, family, hangover, holiday, stupidity, teenagers, wench

OK, so yesterday, despite my immense intellect, I thought it was Friday, perhaps my arch nemesis was using some kind of mind control to depress me when I discovered the truth. He will pay for this...

Anyway, as a master wordsmith and giant of the literary world, I often spend my time lounging in green meadows, vast oak branches spreading over my head like Oberon's crown, the raging torrent of my imagination bursting it's banks onto the notebook in my hand. I can write some mean gangster rap in those conditions, I tell thee. But even a rhymasaurus with a flow as fresh as mine has trouble with a few words:

1. Film
2. Orange
3. Month
4. Purple
5. Silver

I'm sick like a leper,
I'll make your brain burn, like you just snorted pepper.
I got scary rhymes like Edgar Allan Poe,
I make The Raven seem like a doe.
This flow feels atrocious,
like a small child acting precocious.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
Yeah, yeah, what, uh-huh, yeah, dika-dika, yeah...

See you never know when I'll just drop a fresh bomb on your ass like that. I'm loco. Uncontrolable, you better step off, don't be getting up in my grill. Damn this street talk is exhausting, and hard to use to get a point across. Know what I'm saying? Word.

Labels: crap, fun, grammar, horror, music, stupidity

Must post something! It's getting towards the end of the week and I've been really busy. Work is finally become pretty demanding, so I'm trying to find time to come up with a post every now and then.

I'm not a Grammar Nazi. Most of the time I capitalize the wrong words, my punctuation needs a lot of work (what's a colon?), my spelling has deteriorated since spell check arrived. However I still get OCD about certain things. I hate redundancy. Here's my Top 5 redundant phrases:

1. Twelve noon
2. Advance warning
3. Cash money
4. Free gift
5. Exact same

There are a lot more redundant things in speech that annoy me. Like PIN number, or ATM machine. The word is in the abbreviation, it's not a personal identification number number is it? I think this stems from my laziness. I'm all about efficiency. If something is extra effort then I don't bother with it and it annoys me that other people wouldn't take the easier option.

This may sound petty, and it is, but I like making things easier for people. Automation is your friend, simplicity is your fuck buddy. I'd rather spend 15 minutes creating something to make a job easier than just jumping into something that's going to be long and hard. On the other hand I'm also a pretty big hypocrite, but I guess that's all part of being lazy as well.

Labels: grammar, laziness, stupidity, work

Adverts can be great, but the vast majority suck like MySpace: badly. Adverts can bring you down in the middle of a good program, or film. I can't wait to get Sky+ (England's version of Tivo) so I don't have to watch adverts anymore. Most of the good ones you get to see on YouTube anyway. In fact YouTube has become quite a good trial for a commercial, if it's good, it'll be passed around, like a drunk cheerleader at a frat party.

Bad adverts are boring, uninspired, stupid, badly produced, acted or dubbed. Here's a few of the adverts I've found illustrating a few of these points, or they just grind my gears:

1. Toyota Yaris
2. Get Unhooked (Anti-smoking)
3. HI! I'M BARRY SCOTT!! (Cilit Bang) - Remixed version! <-- Funny stuff
4. Orange Mobile Phones
5. Frosties

The Orange advert is clever, but is on all day. In my office there are TVs all over the place, and I hear this advert every 10mins. I'm on the verge of putting my head through the next screen on which this advert appears.

The Frosties advert is quite possibly the most annoying thing since the french. It's very well known in the UK, I'm not sure if it's in the US. It was played so much I developed a twitch every time it came on the TV. Over here it became so annoying a radio DJ started a rumour that the kid had killed himself because he'd been bullied so much due to the advert. It's kind of an urban legend now, despite the DJ telling everyone he's really alive and well a large number of people still think he's dead.

This redeems my faith that not everyone in advertising is as cripplingly retarded as a brain damaged chimp on acid.

Labels: adverts, stupidity, suckage, TV, UK

So over two weeks after I said I was going to see 300 I finally managed to drag the Wench to the cinema to see it on The Big Screen. It was definitely worth the effort. The only thing I can think though is that it's probably not going to be as good the second time round. Sure it's impressive, the visuals are stunning, and everything looks just like a moving comic book, but other than all the dudes with rippling muscles killing hundreds of masked samurai-esque warriors what are you going to concentrate on now you know what's coming? What am I talking about? It was AWESOME!!

In honour of the magnificence that was 300 I give you my Top 5 Spartans:

1. Michigan State Spartans
2. John Spartan
3. Master Chief
4. Kratos
5. King Leonidas

The Spartans were apparently the finest soldiers the world has ever produced. What happened to them? If they were that great they can't have been annihilated. Maybe they moved. Or maybe, like those other highly evolved killers of long ago, the dinosaurs, they evolved into something else?* Yeah, maybe they just got so good at killing people and being the ultimate soldiers that they evolved into ninjas. Then they all disappeared, never to be heard from again, only to be remembered for their past deeds before they moved on to a higher plane of existence.

*Note: I think this is crap, the dinosaurs were killed off by a time-travelling idiot with the flu.

Labels: films, history, late, science, stupidity, wench

At last, I drag together enough time and inspiration to squeeze out another post. It's been a long time coming but don't get too over excited.

I've seen a lot of arguments recently, I've not participated in many, but I've witnessed quite a few. Arguments in modern times seem to quickly dissolve into shouting matches, with all sides deciding they'll win if they repeat themselves the most at the highest volume. Well this may work for dogs and retards, but civilised human beings should use one of these less violent and noisy alternatives:

1. Each side can put forth a well thought out and coherent argument, before hearing the next participants viewpoint, then decide on a course of action, possibly a compromise to the benefit of all parties.
2. Flip a coin
3. Rock, Paper, Scissors
4. Russian Roulette
5. Fight to the death

Personally I find a flip of the coin works quite well. Sure it doesn't always work, but if your bad at presenting your point then winning half your arguments, even against superior debaters arguers is a pretty good win/loss ratio.

As a solution to arguments I think that quite often fighting to the death is neglected as a possible alternative. In a better time gentlemen would challenge each other to duels in order to settle a quarrel, not stand about in the street in the middle of the night, yelling incomprehensible babble at each other until one side wonders off, is hit by a car, or falls asleep. I'm a firm believer in letting whoever is the finest swordsman or greatest shot win an argument. Even in the future we know that inevitably all disputes will be decided in the Thunderdome, just as they were hundreds of years ago. Two men enter, one man leaves! Two men enter, one man leaves!

Labels: drinking, films, history, stupidity

I have to commute to work, I'm sure I've mentioned this before a few times. I have to take the train, and I pay about £1800, about $3500. For that sort of money I should be getting free meals and a bed on my train. However most of the time I manage to get a seat, and that's good enough for me, as I either read, sleep or play on my DS.

Most of the people I travel with are nice enough, they are courteous and polite, we apologise to one another if we get in each others way, or say thank you if they let us pass. But there's always a few oxygen thieves around who make commuting even more tiresome. Here are the top 5 things that make you an asshole commuter:

1. Standing on the left of the escalator.
2. Stopping suddenly in the middle of the flow of commuters.
3. Not moving into the train so more people can get on.
4. Complaining loudly about nothing.
5. Standing in front of the train doors.

On the way to work these things are barely noticed through my blurry and semi-comatose morning haze. I stumble on to the train and claim a seat, throwing my bag into the overhead storage and sitting down as quickly as I can. I then either slip back into unconsciousness and drool over myself for half an hour, or try and do something active to stir my brain from a porridge-like mess into an effervescent bowl of coke and pop rocks.

By the time it comes to getting home again I'm tired and irritable. The people in my way are no longer ignored, they're infuriating. The ancient crone complaining has a voice like cutlery scraping on glass, instead of the dull muttering of this morning. The final straw is the idiot trying to force his way past me as I'm getting off the train at home, generally he just ends up back on the platform again as everyone exits the train. I fail to see the point of trying to get on the train while people are getting off, it's like a salmon swimming up a waterfall. Sure you'll get there eventually, but then your just going to lay your eggs and die. Wait... what?

Labels: assholes, commuting, DS, stupidity, suckage, york

You know when you think "If I bought gym equipment so I could exercise at home, I wouldn't need to go to a gym"? A clever person then realises that if your not going to a gym the chances of you doing exercise are less than your chances of surviving a raptor attack. I've had a few of these moments, and by my own metaphor, I would be a bloody lump of bones, being picked through by prehistoric scavengers.

In my attempts to lower my gym bills I have purchased a number of pieces of fitness equipment. I've used a few of them, but most of the time they just lean against the wall, taking up much needed living space. A few times I've not even assembled the equipment. Here's my top 5:

1. A Powerball - Used 3 times in a year.
2. A Rowing Machine - Used quite a bit in the first 2 years, once or twice in the 2 years since.
3. Free Weights - Used quite a bit for six months, once or twice in the 3 years since.
4. A Weight Bench - Never been used.
5. Cross Trainer - Bought 2 weeks ago, not been used yet.

And I keep buying more stuff! If I actually used any of this kit I'd be pretty buff, unfortunately that's not really the case. The last thing I used was some Tae-Bo DVDs, which are pretty good by the way, but that was about 2 months ago. I'll buy something thinking this will be the thing to trigger me off, then I will suddenly become a fitness obsessed machine, my weight will disappear and within a week I will have the body of a Mediterranean speedo model. This almost never happens.

I'm just to lazy too keep it up. I bought my weight bench to go with my weights, which already had a great layer of dust on. The bench sat assembled for 6 months. Then in a fit of energy I assembled the bench. Now it has stood against the wall for a further 4 months unused. The cross trainer we bought 2 weeks ago from a friend has been unused for 2 weeks, except when the Wench used it for 10 minutes one morning. I swear one of these days I will get up off my lazy ass and do some exercise! I can even watch TV when I'm using most of the kit, and I've spent enough money on it all!

Labels: exercise, health, stupidity, wench

I am a smoker. I'm a bit of a rubbish smoker as well. I only really smoke when the Wench smokes, and she's been smoking since she was 4, or something like that. I only smoke a lot when I'm drinking, and it's when I'm drinking I really get the urge to smoke as well.

I keep trying to give the Wench reasons to quit, but they never work, and I'm too lazy to quit if she keeps on doing it, so it's a bit of a vicious cycle, as I could be leading by example. Here are some of the reasons I've given her to quit:

1. It's expensive
2. It smells
3. Wheezing/coughing/general unhealthiness
4. Lung cancer
5. There are NO benefits

The weird thing is there are NO BENEFITS to smoking. Yet it's such a popular habit. People claim it relaxes you. The only time having a cigarette has relaxed me was when I hadn't had one for 2 days and my body was craving the nicotine. It's only relaxing if your addicted and jonesing for a hit. On the other hand it has some monstrous negatives, listing death as one of it's main downsides.

Why do people start smoking? It tastes terrible to begin with. I can't get the Wench to give me a proper reason as to why she started. As far as I can figure it her friend started and she thought it was cool. And it is. It is cool to smoke. But she won't admit it. I started smoking because I thought it was cool, and so did a lot of people I know. It made you look older, feel more grown up and kids looked up to you. Look at all the movies, all the cool characters smoked: James Bond, Fonzie and Bender to name a few. But I really should quit now, look what happened to Darth Vader.

Labels: cigarettes, films, health, stupidity, suckage, teenagers, TV, wench