Sunday, 31 July 2011

And on the first day...

As I gaze upon this hellish mess of a collection and find myself inexplicably drawn towards a conclusion very uncharacteristic of me; I need to impose some order upon the chaos. The first port of call will be to have some form of organised posting system; the system I suggest is as follows:

1)     A new post shall appear every Friday, it’s topic shall be clear and direct as to avoid too much digression
2)     I will intermittently write smaller posts about my daily life and/or smaller topics that take my fancy as time passes by
3)     ????
4)     Profit! You now have a reason and time to check back and read the nonsense my brain churns out on a daily basis

Any objections? No? Then by unanimous agreement, this will be the mode through which I post new content and am thus, forced to keep up a relatively steady work pace. Suck that procrastination and apathy.

It is at this point that I am left at a loose end, what exactly is it that I should talk about? I have a few topics written down but they will be exhausted before the month is out. It is a request that I leave to you dear reader, I need your inexhaustible creativity to give me a springboard to work from in order to mask the failings of my own.

Tell me what you want me to write about, whether it is by comments below or other means. Ciao.

Wait, you were expecting a joke? But the post was so short, barely even there in comparison to the many others. You don’t care? Well... Er... Don’t be expecting the grade A material.

Joke because it says so in the contract, not that there is any actual contract...

An inkjet cartridge walks into a bar. The bartender asks, "Are you sure you don't need a refill?”

Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings

Ah, friendship. A word loaded with a multitude of different meanings and connotations, so much so that were you to ask 60 different people as to what the word means to them, you would likely find yourself with 60 completely different answers. At this point you are probably already questioning whether this is just another one of my emotion-induced, sloppily written rants with no actual relation to the real world... and you are probably right to some degree but indulge me as you would a senile relative, beset by age but still eager to pass on the war stories. Could you actively explain to someone who had never heard the term just exactly what friendship is? More to the point, the time at which a person jumps the bridge from an acquaintance to that oh so elusive title, the one you have most likely given to a multitude of people throughout the short space of time in which we have to do so; when they become your friend?

There is some degree of method to the madness that is my choice of topic; I had made a promise to two of the lucky people who have been deemed worthy by my particular set of warped standards and thus, earned their place amongst my friends. Therefore, I think it prudent of me to dedicate this particular post to Erik and Niall, the two that without which, our three musketeers status would be in serious jeopardy.  

Without going into too much detail (for fear of irreparably damaging our reputations and future jobs prospects in any credible company), I will say that we have gone through a lot of crazy shit together, for lack of a better phrase. So much so that if any member of our odd trio were to be in a particularly vindictive mood, they could easily screw over the other two, yet that would never happen. I don’t know whether it is the history or the understanding or just plain ol’ trust, but there is an indescribable bond, one that seems unbreakable to these naive pair of eyes. At the end of the day, I suppose that is all you can really look for in your companions, that understanding where you know you could gladly give your all to someone who will not take it for granted. At least, that’s what I must be looking for; complete subjectivity in an idea makes it rather hard to generalise.

Now I’m not saying that is all I, or anyone else for that matter is looking for in a friend because as with notions as complex as this, an intricate series of much simpler ideas form the foundation of whatever twisted metaphorical yard stick it is that you, I or anybody else uses to make the all important decision on friend eligibility. It is here that you will find the greatest degree of variation, where the opinions and the bias really come into their own. As where I may be looking for someone who has a stock of jokes just as terrible as my own, you may want someone who is reliable in a crisis or just fun to be around. Just don’t get too bogged down in trying to figure out the qualities that you most desire, it can all get terribly confusing when you delve too deep into your own rationale. Keep doing as you have done so up until now, keep on following that gut instinct you get when you meet a person or that tried and tested method you have for picking the inner circle. Do whatever works for you and make sure you have fun whilst doing it.

Remember this though; life is a solo journey at the end of the day. People come and go, some stay for a mere moment, others will be there until the day you die. Make sure you hang onto the important ones, the ones that make you happy or sad or excited, whatever quality you believe is most important. Keep them close and enjoy the ride.

Joke that I have inherited from my dear mother (who you can also thank for my disastrous sense of humour)

Q. What do you call a three-legged donkey?
A. A Wonkey

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Will write poorly constructed blog posts for money

It’s a sad day when you aren’t quite good enough to work for McDonalds. The final nail in the coffin of the plucky young lad who had been so fervently looking for employment, slowly lowering his standards until finally, the day comes when the phrase “would you like fries with that?” seems like the optimal career move. Little did he know, this most disdained of jobs was less the broad side of a barn and more a rapidly disappearing target in a thunderstorm, much like every other job he had tried for up till that point. It is at this point that our average hero sadly gives up his search and returns to a life of poverty and free time. It'll take much more than that to deter me dear reader, I’ve sunk far lower.

Let me give you a little context to the situation before this post derails in the characteristic train wreck that is my writing style; for a good month and a bit, my friend Tom (whose blog I have linked for your pleasure below whilst also dedicating this post to) and I have been on a jobs hunt. It began with a casual browse through the odd jobs website and ended up with a series of long treks to far flung jobs centres, which more often than not, yielded no results other than another scratch upon my ego. Believe me when I tell you, my ego has now gained the appearance of a battle hardened veteran; there’s even a few of those cool scars on the cheeks.

Before I continue with my story, I must ask that you think not too badly of me for the blatant hypocrisy exhibited in the following; I abandoned my moral compass in my search for work long ago. The story begins similarly to the many other online applications I had completed over the previous weeks, the difference being that this particular store had deemed me worthy of a reply and an interview. Only, I didn’t quite realise this until 3 days prior to the interview and as such, was forced to scramble my resources in order to fill out all the required forms and gather all the other paraphernalia that I would need, but I digress. The interviews were held in a hotel attached to west ham football ground, conveniently easy to reach through the front entrance but being the adventure loving idiot that I am, I didn’t quite realise this and as such, ended up wandering to the rather less extravagant backside of the grounds in search of some mystical entrance. Things were off to a great start.

After I had wandered back to the front, I sauntered up to the front desk, mustering the small amounts of cool I had been saving for just such an occasion in order to make a good first impression but once again, my efforts were in vain as I was caught off guard by a team member who was hanging about to my side. I was promptly led upstairs to a seating area filled with a bunch of others and a screen with some form of indoctrinating video on loop, its lures were tempting but I managed to retain my mind for just long enough to escape to the interview. The interview itself was pretty uneventful; I charmed the pants off of the interviewer whilst answering a load of simple questions in an elegant fashion. As quickly as it had begun, the process was over and I was free of the dreaded confines of that top button on the shirt. Now here’s the kicker; the store in question is that moral bastion known as Squidlypib (retconned for SPOILERS "This could get me fired" reasons) and no, I didn’t get the job. I sold my morals in a bid to get a minimum wage job for a conglomerat, propping up the capitalist system whilst also potentially helping a known user of child labour all in one fell swoop. I didn’t even get the bloody job. I’ve outdone myself this time.

Good news for you though, I’m still available for work. If you need a writer of slightly depressing or overtly verbose, quasi-philosophical nonsense, I’m your man.

Rib-tickilingly bad joke to while away the seconds

Q. What happened to the boat that sank in the sea full of piranha fish?
A. It came back with a skeleton crew!

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

Opiates and opera

Howdy once again, I must begin by apologising for yet another unexplained absence of the quality  writing you have come to expect from this establishment, not that the explanation is of any real  interest anyway, let’s just say it was a drug addled few weeks in which I was continuously partying and having oodles of fun... You didn’t buy that? I wouldn’t either. Any period of time that someone attempts to explain in a sentence was either partly fictional or just an out and out lie. Life’s rich tapestry rarely affords a simple explanation.

In my case, the explanation above did have some base in truth; due to reasons that are both highly embarrassing and pretty painful, I’ve been on a happy mix of codeine and paracetamol, also known as co-codamol. Now, not only is this particular mix an effective painkiller, the codeine component is also of the opiate family (the likes of which include morphine and heroin) and as a result, I have been in a blissful stupor for near on 2 weeks. I won’t bore you with the particulars but one occasion stood out amongst them all, the night when I had rather vivid dreams about flying through caves filled with electrified cows whilst explaining the correct flight paths over some form of intercom. The worst part is that wasn’t even the strangest of the bunch.

Apart from flittering with an addiction, I’ve also experienced a menagerie of new, mainly unwanted experiences these past few weeks. The main contributor to this could be seen in a recent trip to an outdoor showing of an opera live on screen. The opera itself was so-so, it was the original story of Cinderella in French and as it was my first ever opera, I was quite intrigued to see how the whole thing would work; my inexperienced curiosity was short lived. Whilst the show continued onwards through its 4 hour long story, the cluster of acquaintances around me quickly finished their supplies of alcohol and unfortunately for me, I was unable to drink anything myself due to the medicine, leaving me surrounded by a bunch of rowdy drunks, in the throes of full on sobriety . New experiences 1 and 2 weren’t completely bad; I was pretty ambivalent to the whole situation, the problems aroused with problem 3; it seems I had piqued the interests of a rather over-friendly bi fellow. I can’t exactly remember how frequently I was asked amazingly awkward questions, all I know is it was about as many times as I politely declined his advances. Good thing I had a few tablets handy to keep me nice and indifferent to the situation. On the bright side, I think he gave up around the end of the 3 hour mark. Oh and I also found out I have comfortable knees. Never know when you’re going to need that kind of knowledge.

Philosophy joke because I have reached that special philosophical state of tiredness upon completion of this post

Rene Descartes walks into a bar and ordered a brandy, which he tossed down immediately. The barman asked him "Would you like another?" and Rene answered "I think not", and promptly disappeared