Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Random Guy #3

Do you ever get the feeling your life is a movie?
Not a huge blockbuster. Not even a feel good rom-com, or big thrills action.
Nope, your movie is the dodgy one that no-one really gets. Crappy depressing story with disappointingly shitty end. You know the one, lots of hype but no-one buys the DVD.

There would only be one thing more depressing than having that film for a life, and that would be playing an extra in your own movie. All these dynamic scenes and plot twists, even though it's really hard to tell there's a plot at all, and you're at the back of the shot. No lines, just set dressing. You don't even get a name in the credits, just Random Guy #3. No past, no future, your present only serves as filler for other people's story.

It's a shitty job but someone has to do it

Monday, 6 December 2010


I was called a whore today.
Still not entirely sure how I feel about that.
In my eyes a whore is someone who sleeps around a lot, different girl every weekend kind of thing. Well that's definitely not me. I know I have a filthy perverted mind, all the best minds are, but I wouldn't have thought my actions were whore worthy.
I've only slept with people I've been in a serious relationship with, the shortest one being 3 or 4 months. I regularly spend a year or more between relationships sleeping with no-one but my monkey. Even then I have been in relationships with no sex at all. As odd as that may sound to some people, it was nice just being with some, sharing your lives and experiences. Affectionate companions more than girlfriends. Sometimes a cuddle in bed as you fall asleep is better than a shag.

I guess it's all relative though, some believe in no sex before marriage, and some (I could easily name certain friends) will bonk anything that moves. I think a whore cares about sex, while I have genuinely cared for and loved all those who have been in my life. I have been hurt by most, and unfortunately done some hurting to others, such is the way of break ups. I still care about all of them, and am truly happy for those who have moved on and found love elsewhere. Even the ones who hurt me the most, but especially the few I hurt.

So no I don't think I am a whore. I might have had a fuller sex life than some, but I don't want sex. I want love. I want to wake up next to someone who makes me smile for no reason, someone who makes life just that little bit wonderful.

My search for love continues, but I sincerely hope yours doesn't last as long. We all deserve that deep love that makes life living, don't you think?

Friday, 19 November 2010

I've had a wait come back, you might get a giggle out of this.
Why does Christmas last so long?

You see everyone else, except the Queen, only gets one day. Yet Christmas just goes on and on and on. I think it has to do with the length of labour. For most of us, from water breaking to baby popping, labour takes less than 24 hours. Longer labours are quite common, especially amongst first time mothers. Bingo. Mary was a first time mom, and a virgin at that.

But how long did it take her to squeeze out little JC? I think a major clue comes from a popular Christmas song. The twelve days of Christmas. 12 days! With a labour like that we should be celebrating the mother and not the sprog.

Why exactly did it take so long though? Well lets think about this for a second. Firstly JC is the son of God, and God is everywhere and knows everything. Which means He's huge with a ginormous head. Imagine trying to squeeze the offspring of that out of you! secondly JC, being the son of God, was pretty advanced compared to mere mortals. Also if you remember, JC was a bit of an entertainer, turning water into wine and walking on water etc.

So imagine if you will, Marys' water has just broken. Joseph takes a peak and sees a tiny hand, which promptly disappears. It pops back out and starts waving at him. Slightly startled, Joe leans in closer and hears baby mumblings. Which reveal both why Christmas lasts so long, and who is to blame for one of the most annoying songs ever.

Little JC "You put you left armie out, you pull you left armie in. In, out, in, out, you shake it all put your right footie out..."

12 days of this! And people wonder why God sent his only son to Earth, it was for some hokey cokey peace!

Thursday, 18 November 2010

Tree Frog

Tree Frog: "Add this tree frog to your page to see how he inquisitively follows your mouse or eats the flies you give it"

What the fudge??

I was talking to this sweet young lady the other day, and she had a bit of a problem. You see she plays the cornet and sax, but can't practice at home much because it upsets the neighbours. Now I'm sure this has nothing to do with the quality of her skills, but rather the constant repetition of scales and such. Me being me, I offered up a few solutions. Apparently deliberately popping their eardrums isn't sensible, and drugging them every day can be expensive. I did hit on one idea though which was sheer genius, if I do say so myself. I'm not going to share that idea just yet because I have yet to find a working version anywhere and it could make me rich, or kill me, either way it could be an interesting project.

So I start looking into getting a cheap trumpet, the base frame of my idea. Holy bat shit they're expensive! Even buggered ones that don't work can go for £100 or more. If modern technology and cheap labour can produce brand new guitars for £40-£60 then surely someone can pump out cheap trumpets. I can go out tomorrow and buy a car, one with all it's wheels and everything, for less than a frigging trumpet. What the hell is the deal with that?

It does make me wonder though, just how messed up is the world?

Thursday, 11 November 2010

Price of admission

I've had a few revelations recently, and been forced to admit to a few things. Which is a good thing really. You can only ignore things for so long before they bite you on the arse...hard. There's always that fear though. What will other people think? If I admit to that I'm admitting that I'm weak etc etc. For me this has been quite difficult and somewhat hipocrytical. Firstly I don't care what people think. Never have and never will. Secondly, I know I'm weak. We all are in different ways, just like we are all strong in certain aspects. So what the hell was I afraid of?

I think my biggest problem is honesty. I'm not a liar as such, but I have a really bad habit of misleading people. I act friendly to people I can't stand, I say I'm fine when I'm far from it and I act like a descent social chap. I'm really not. As I've mentioned before, I really don't like myself, and I suppose it's time to get into all that bollocks. Those closest to me will know that I suffered from anger issues, and that I sorted myself out and don't lose my temper anymore. I got my head to a place where I'm not even sure I can lose it, but I'm angry. Deep inside I'm always angry. It's actually a rather odd feeling, everyone and everything starts to become a mild annoyance. Yet I can calmly look in at the anger, and then just get on with things.

Next on the list is depression, and sundries. I personally would class my depression as perfectly normal, and understandable, for someone who's gone through the shit I have and leads the life I do. There are a few other things mixed in that scare the shit out of me though. I have suicidal thoughts almost constantly. From my early teens, every day and in most of my dreams. Don't send for the Samaritans just yet, letr me explain. The suicidal thoughts don't feel like they come from a depressed place. Even at my happiest they are still there. They are just there, not a way of escaping anything. I see a high bridge and I idly wonder what it'd feel like to jump off. Waiting at pedestrian crossings, I randomly get urges to step in from of cars. Let me make it clear at this point. I DO NOT WANT TO DIE. There is way too many fun and interesting things in the world to miss out on. I saw a documentary on Tourettes a few years ago, and apparently there is a type 2 Tourettes which is distinguished by random and unemotional urges of suicide. This fit the bill so much it scared the crap out of me, so much so that I've never had the guts to see a Doc about it.

My latest self discovery is something you've probably never heard of. Trichotillomania is an obsessive compulsion to pull out your own hair. For quite a number of years I've had a nervous habit, when I'm stressed or bored mainly, of plucking hair. During bad spells I grow my beard and concentrate on my chin so I don't end up bald. I've made excuses over the years, from singing my eyebrows during one of my misadventures, to not being able to shave due to sensitive skin. Well truth time, I grow my beard on purpose so I can pull out the hair. I have Trichotillomania, I am a Trichster. I joined a fantastic support group this week, and have been finding out some rather interesting things. The one that really caught my eye was the link between Trich, ADD, OCD and Tourettes. You see I've always been a touch hyper, Boredom kills me. When I'm online I'm also playing games on Facebook and have a game going on the xbox. Add to that the Tourettes link. If I do indeed have type 2 like I suspect, then it all makes sense.

All in all it has been a bit of a scarey week for me, thinking about all my serious defects. It's amazing the releif I felt when I joined the Trich support group, and not only did they understand about the hair pulling but many of the others share my other quirks. Seems that maybe I'm really not the complete dick I thought I was, the other Trichsters are the same as me and they are all loverly.

The first step to recovery is admitting to yourself that you have a problem, that has never been an issue. The second step is admitting those problems to the people you care about. That has kind of been what this whole post is about. Certain important people have access to this blog, and can read it anytime. Whether or not I have the guts to discuss my issues with them face to face is another story. One step at a time. I do feel like I've made progress though, but I'm still a dick.

Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Always read the label

You know, when you buy food, everything you need to know is on the label. Wouldn't life be so much easier if people had the same? Now I know what you're going to say. "finding out is half the fun" but I'm not saying put everything in print, just the important things.

So what would I put on these people labels?

Well for starters single status. Think how better it would be if we had a clue from the get go. Ladies, for one you wouldn't be hit on all the time when your partner is elsewhere. As much of a confidence booster as it is, I'm told it is annoying. Then we come to dating, how much easier would it be if we knew who was available right from the start?

Sexuality. Yep I said sexuality. In this modern society we have all sorts to contend with, and quite frankly it makes things messy. This is something that is recently giving me trouble. I met someone cute, I really start to like them but oh dear, I don't have enough ovaries for their taste. Come on people, let the rest of us know which way you swing!

Religious conviction. Now I don't care which God you believe in or what church you go to, but all I'll say is that someone who goes to church more than twice a week and someone who intensely dislikes the whole setup, should never meet.

The next one is a bit tricky. You see most of us are completely oblivious to the signs that someone likes us. A little hint on the people label might be a good idea, something along the lines of "you stand a chance so don't blow it" would be good.

If you don't want to walk around with a tag glued to your face, then I guess the next best thing is to just say what you think. If you like someone, say so. Talk about your beliefs and ideals. Be open with your sexuality, don't ever be ashamed. No-one actually cares that much these days.
The only thing keeping us back is fear. Fear of rejection, but what if we're accepted? It's a risk worth taking.

Tuesday, 21 September 2010

Can I get off now please?

I have periods of crippling depression, mostly for good reasons. The problem is that I'm pretty good at hiding it. So I fester in my own little dark world while others think it's business as usual. Of course if some dipshit shrink was to analyze me they would come up with all sorts of crap that doesn't actually help, but at the end of the day I've just got to hang on tight and ride it out.

It's hard to describe what these funks are like, and harder still to imagine that anyone else could understand. Perhaps putting these thoughts and feelings into words helps....then again who gives a shit?

What is more interesting is the random crap my brain comes up with when the rest of me doesn't want to keep going. For example, just today most of my being was screaming to go and do something silly when a naughty little thought popped up. Is it possible to de-evolve?

Take a look at humans and chimps. Yes humans are more intelligent, and we have the whole opposable thumbs thing going....but in every other respect, we are inferior to chimps. Our ape cousins have fewer diseases, fewer genetic defects, almost no allergies, they are physically stronger and can withstand greater environmental extremes than we can. So who is the more advanced creature?

I say the human race would be better off if we buggered off back into the trees, used our feet as hands and occasionally threw our shit at each other...OK we kind of do that last one already, but I hope you get my point. The more "advanced" we get, the more fragile we become. Is it coincidence that as hygiene and anti-bacterial soaps become more and more fashionable, asthma also increases?

I say let kids play in the mud. Make them lick their chickenpox addled friends. Climb trees and enjoy life, don't fear it.

Wednesday, 8 September 2010

Dipshit say what now?

It has been brought to my attention that maybe I'm not such a bad guy after all. Mainly because a certain female friend insists I'm nice, and she isn't all that happy with me right now, but also because Almighty D randomly gave me a pressie. To say those that know me know me all too well is a slight understatement. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this here, and I really can't be arsed checking, but I do have a slight obsession with fairies. So when Almighty D hands me a fairy figurine for being a good mate, and I quote "I saw it and just had to get it for you.", I do kinda have to rethink a few things.

Firstly I think I should downplay the whole fairy thing, people might get the wrong idea, or worse, the right idea. Secondly I can't be all that bad. It really means a lot when someone like Almighty D shows that kind of affection towards you. It was a small gesture really, one that many of us make without thinking, but really it says a lot.

So of course I get to thinking. We all make these gestures that say so much, and yet none of us really pay much attention. Now I've had an idea, a challenge really. why don't you pay attention for a week and see who really cares about you. Who loves you enough to drop everything when you have a bad day? Who remembers how you have your tea without asking? Who cares enough about you to think of you when you're not around?

Try it for a week, pay attention to all the little things. You might be surprised at how many people care about you, or maybe someone thinks of you more than you realise.

Saturday, 4 September 2010

Ode to self

There have been times in my life when I really don't understand what the point is. You see I know I'm an arsehole, if I was someone else I wouldn't be friends with me. There are many things I enjoy doing, but I can no longer do them. I suffer from almost crippling loneliness, yet I don't particularly like other people. People annoy me, especially people I actually like. So to save the friendship, I disappear for a while. I ration out my time with those I want in my life. But I get comfortable being alone. I enjoy the solitude, the raging silence in my head.

What is it that makes us need company? Why are we so dependant on social contact?

I have a theory, so brace yourselves.
Whatever we think of ourselves is almost always wrong. Think you're fat? probably wrong. Think you're intelligent? Almost certainly wrong. So we need other people's opinions to tell us who and what we are. Sure there are going to be times when they bend the truth to save our feelings "no of course you don't look fat in that dress honey!" is a classic, but if enough people are telling you the same thing...well it's probably true, no matter what you think.

Which brings up a rather interesting question. Why can we be more honest about other people than we can about ourselves? OK, so no-one wants to think of themselves as a fat arsehole with a tiny I.Q. but surely acknowledging your faults is the first step to fixing them?

What do you do when you can't fix the faults? When you like them, when you like being an arsehole? What do you do when people keep wanting to be your friend, or worse, and all you want to do is tell them to fuck off? Answers on a postcard.

I suppose this rant was started by someone trying to be nice and said I'd make a good husband for someone one day. No, no I won't. I don't even make a good human being at times. I'm an arsehole, I'm broken, but I like it that way. It's far more interesting.

Tuesday, 31 August 2010

What is love? other than the crap song from the early 90's

Love is a strange and downright vindictive bastard. You see you catch the love, then you get screwed. There are many forms to this twist of the knife, all as perverse as the next.

First we have the hidden nutjob. For some reason this keeps happening to me. You meet a wonderful person, and they like you back. You spend time getting to know them and you catch the love. then bam! they turn into psycho bunny boilers. it's best to head for the hills and change your name in this case.

Secondly there is the "oh I've changed my mind, i actually love someone else". This has only happened to me twice, and it comes with the mother of all mindfucks. you see you can't forget them, ever. they stay in your heart, and as much as they hurt you, you still love them and always will. the bitches.

Next of course are the ones you come to realise you love as a friend and nothing more. this comes with unique difficulties. You care about this person, they have become your best just don't want to be their boyfriend. how can you break your best friends' heart? if you're lucky, and i mean really fucking lucky, then you can let them down gently. I'm not lucky, i have the unfortunate rep of being a twat. I'd like to think I'm not, I'm just crap at doing things the right way.

The last type, is a killer. one i know all too well. unrequited love. you meet someone, someone who dazzles you. just knowing they exist makes your life better. you get lost in their eyes, their smile is all you need to survive. everything about them, mind body and soul, calls out to you. pulls you in. traps you.
the bitch of the situation is that the object of your love barely sees you as a man. you're a vague acquaintance, a friend or worse. and yet you know what you should do. you should take them in your arms, make their dreams come true. show them just how special they are, and with every part of your being you want to make them happy. make them smile, rock their world like they rocked yours.
you have 2 choices here, make a move or say nothing. now i firmly believe that nothing ventured is nothing gained, but i also know myself. so i choose to do nothing. i know in my heart that they wouldn't be happy with me, and their happiness is my only purpose in life. so i step back, do nothing. i be their friend, support them and try to bring happiness to their life.....just to watch them......just to watch her look for love elsewhere. you sacrifice it all for them. your own happiness, your own soul, and even though you start dying inside you smile. you know she is worth it, you can rest in peace seeing her happy.

i have had the pleasure and misfortune to experience all forms of love except the one we are all looking for. pure, all consuming true love. maybe I'll never find it, maybe i had it and fucked it up. maybe the all consuming love from afar is as close as I'll get. so she never knows that she owns me, so what? that's not the point of love. the point of love is to feel it, to give all you love selflessly.

then again there's a lot to be said about a long slow snog and a cuddle ;)

Monday, 30 August 2010

Not the Dada

A few years ago I had a rater lovely, and naughty, weekend with a rather lovely lady friend. For various reasons, some beyond my control and some just plainly my own fault, we parted ways for 3 years.
I was pleasantly surprised to get back in contact with her. Her life is going well, 2 kids and back on track with her hubby. Her kids are gorgeous and she has big plans for her future, so naturally i was well chuffed for her....then my brain had a spaz attack.
You see it was a touch over3 years ago when i had the pleasure of her affections, and her eldest is nearly my maths isn't great and i can be pretty slow at times, but that sounds like a gap resembling pregnancy.

probably now is a good time to say i love kids, my life simply will never be complete till I'm a dad. so naturally it was mental meltdown time. one the one hand, my dreams could have come true. on the other yet another person gets the pleasure while i sit and watch on the sidelines. Now me being me, i start to convince myself that i must be the daddy. i got myself quite upset that she hadn't told me, that i may have missed out on nearly 3 years. i built up the courage and asked.

when i received the answer i wasn't ready for my reaction. i was off the hook, yet i felt like someone had punched a hole in my chest and ripped out my heart. someone had stolen a daughter from me. how does anyone come back from that?

it took me a few hours before the perverted part of my brain got back from it's weekend away. you see the lady in question was on a trial separation from her hubby, and had been for over a month when we nekkid together. as it turns out she was just about 6 or 7 weeks pregnant at the time. my pervert brain put 2 and 2 together and came up with sex. "hang on, we did a pregnant chick? coooooool"
now that's not a thought I'm proud of, but fuck it, it's something to tick off on the list. then pervert brain had another thought "we still get to knock someone up". this thought, as crass as it was delivered, was a much nicer one. i get to fall in love, create a life, and not screw it well try not to anyway.

i realise now that i still have that dream, that goal, to look forward to. and if I'm really lucky, i might even get paid to eat chocolate one day.