Why won't the voices go away...

Good evening kind reader, I hope this latest missive finds you in better spirits than I, for I am currently subject to the hellish screams of my 4 year old sister and her two similar aged compatriots. If my walls were any more bloody useless, I’d be able to see the little blighters as well as hear them.  My pains do not end there, oh no, if those were my only troubles I would have long since left the house in pursuit of calmer climes. Due to my ever burgeoning social presence, I have been embarking upon all sorts of ventures with little regard for my upcoming chemistry retakes. The day has been one long futile attempt to make headway in my studies in the face of an unrelenting racket from the out and my monstrous propensity to procrastinate, to which this particular piece belongs, from within. Pull up a chair as I bloviate about my past two weeks and aid in my avoidance of inorganic chemistry.

First and foremost, my holiday period has been devoted to two main items with most others being mere side orders in comparison; the new lady in my life and work. Suffice to say, she is a lovely girl and as such, I will not subject her to public grilling and will instead chat to you briefly about the latter. I have had the deep misfortune to be contracted for bank holidays. That may seem mildly annoying to have to work Christmas Eve, Boxing Day and the Tuesday following but it was far worse than that. I’d have settled for annoying, hell, I’d have settled for temporary blindness; what I faced was far worse. You see, my place of employ, Squiddlypib (dubbed so due to reasons explained many moons ago for those of you new here), is a retailer of cheap clothes. I work in the women’s wear department. I worked blouses on Boxing Day. Now, without sounding too misogynistic, women are batshit crazy in there at the best of times, the shear fervour that the sales had them riled into is indescribable by anyone with a sane mind and knowledge of vocabulary less than that of the entirety of the dictionary. If that wasn’t bad enough, 30 people called in sick across the store. I wouldn’t have wished that chaos upon my most hated of enemies.

My next venture of any noteworthiness came in the form of me lending a hand to a mate filming a zombie flick. Filled with dread at the fact it would mark the 5^th 8am wake up in a row, I made my way to the designated location. A few uneventful hours later due to one bastard deciding to sleep in, the filming finally began. Tasked with the role of a hapless leader of a bunch of ragtag layabouts and unlucky jerks, I gave a hackneyed performance so wooden in places, I’d have put any amateur dramatics troupe to shame. The day itself was fun, if not lengthened by the director’s lack of sufficient pre-production and went off without major incident. One mention has to go to the nippletastic top I had to wear for a flashback. Our resident makeup artist ‘modified’ a spare top with various cuts before dousing me in fake blood and dirt for that authenticity but said cuts ended up exposing both of my nipples to a load of my friends and a few people I had just met. Oh the Joy. A hefty dose of glue and a plaster later and my dignity was (semi) restored.

A special mention to my new readership, welcome to the disorganised mess that is this blog. Expect very little and hope for even less. I shall post a link to the short film when it has been completed. See you when the year count has increased by 1.

Confined 2

A zombie joke befitting my exploits

Q. Do zombies eat popcorn with their fingers?
A. No, they eat the fingers separately

The life and trials of a rather inept man

Don’t look at me like that. You knew as well as I that it wouldn’t take me too long to find an excuse to skive off of work. I suppose I should explain myself shouldn’t I? Welp, it is a tale of chills, spills and dizzying thrills, one that I’m nearly 100% sure hasn’t been made up in order to abate the furious anger that my absence has surely roused within you, my dear reader.

First and foremost in this most recent foray into the bad joke that I like to call my life, has been a recent tendency to go to my friend James’ house for a drink. Just a small gathering or two with a lot of alcohol to while away the hours. The result of which has meant that the two Fridays prior to this day have been spent with a rather terrible hangover and as such, I haven’t  been in the mood to fulfil my dutiful role as the bringer of verbosity and inanity in equal measure. Worry not though, a lack of money combined with guilt for not writing for the loyal few who frequent the site, means that I should be resuming your regular dose of insanity inducing tl;dr content.

In continuation of this shameless attempt at seeking redemption from a bunch of people who don’t really care, is the fact that the most recent bout of drinking was, unlike the ridiculously many times before, meaningful in some small way. You see, I recently received the results from my AS levels, for those of you who are unaware, they are the 1^st year of the 2 year A level courses we take here in merry old England before we go off to get drunk at university.  The results, like the rest of my blasted life, were bittersweet. That is, I done relatively well, achieving ABBD is a feat to be proud of. Unfortunately, the D was in chemistry, the one subject I needed to be strong the most. Funny thing about it all was the B I achieved in the dullest of dull subjects that is English Literature and Language. Now, I know that from my apparent grandiloquent manner, I should be the perfect candidate for some silly English degree but in a bout of floccinaucinihilipilification unseen before to most, I have deemed the pursuit of it all as a rather pointless effort.

It is at this point that I must give myself kudos for actually working floccinaucinihilipilification into the post, it was a challenge I set myself midway through. Not quite sure whether I used it right though. Oh well.

Back to what I was saying before I digressed, I’m currently pursuing a career in science, biology to be slightly more specific. Therein lies my problem; I’m terrible at chemistry; it’s the subject I got the D in. It has not deterred me though. I will continue an uphill battle to follow a route into an area I’m not particularly suited to be, rather than go to where my talents would most likely be suited. That’s just the kind of stubborn bastard that I am.

A joke about test results of a sort, the best I could do was not good enough

Doctor: I've got the results of your test; you have gonorrhoea, chlamydia and onomatopoeia.

Me: What's onomatopoeia?

Doctor: It's exactly what it sounds like.