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.