I spend an awful lot of times in pubs. Well, to be honest, I spend an awful lot of time on the floors of pubs drunk as a skunk, as that is the way I roll. Anyway, through my times in pubs I've noticed that there are always a few certain stereotypes of people. Here are some of them.
The You're Wrong I'm Right Guy
Usually, The You're Wrong I'm Right Guy spends a disproportionate amount of his time in a pub. He will generally have one favourite pub where he spends most of his time and is probably so close with the landlord\landlady that he mows their lawn. As a normal, and sober, person he is probably a great guy. Thing is, when he gets a few drinks down his neck all of a sudden he is the font of all knowledge and his barstool is his soapbox. Got an opinion on politics? Wrong. Got an opinion on sport? Wrong. Explaining how something works to someone? Wrong. Talking about a historical event? Wrong. You see where this is going? Well, if you do see where this is going then The You're Wrong I'm Right Guy would still say you were fucking wrong. Without a word of a lie, I have heard one You're Wrong I'm Right Guy walk up to two people talking and say “No, that's complete rubbish. By the way, what are you guys talking about?”
The Middle Aged Ho
Ahh, The Middle Aged Ho... is there a more beautiful thing? People seem to be of the opinion that any trace of sexual promiscuity in women just sort of stops around the age of 30. Well, that isn't really true. If you look around any pub, there will always be at least one woman in there who is well into her middle age and doing some old school sleeping around. Maybe she is a recent divorcee, maybe she has just always been single or maybe she is having an affair. Either way, if you look around any pub then there will be at least one woman who you would never, ever think of as a a sexual being sat there macking with some different guy each and every week. It happens, and it is as disturbing as it is hot. You know you'd hit it at any rate.
The Drunken Gangster
Some people, when they get drunk, start to talk a little bit of rubbish. Usually it is just a bit of exaggeration and boasting, the way that drunken people do, but every now and again a drunk dude will let slip a dark secret – he is a gangster! Oh yeah, he is a real bad ass... he totally knows a guy who killed a guy, totally knows people who sleep with shotguns by their beds and has totally been lucky himself not to do serious time. When I was a kid, a few people did say things like “Don't mess with me, my brother knows people who have killed someone” and, at the time, it was an absolutely terrifying prospect. Then, of course, we all grew up and realised that only a tiny amount of people actually know these random killers who are walking the streets and shopping in Sainsburys. Still, The Drunken Gangster is totally one of those people. The only thing, though, is that all of his hardcore, gang banging knowledge comes from films and TV. If he wants to boozily explain how to dispose of a body, he will just quote Snatch word for word. If he wants to explain how to run a scam, then it will be something like Casino. This, though, does open up one of the best opportunities in life – quote the next line of the film they are referencing. Oh, it's great fun – you have this drunken dude quoting a film like it is his own original idea, and then you quote the next line. It is the stuff that dreams are made of.
The Eternal Mother
Lets face it, pubs, bars and clubs are all places in which people generally make a tit of themselves. They will either flame out with someone they want to bang, get drunk and fall down or fight. It is just the way it is, accept it. The Eternal Mother knows this, and will always be there to clear up the wounds. Need some reassurance? Well, then The Eternal Mother will be there to give you a hug and a pep talk. Two big guys about to kick seven shades of shit out of one another? Well, The Eternal Mother will bravely step into the middle of the battle and scald them both with a mother's tone in order to regain some order. Drunk? Then The Eternal Mother will sit you down in a corner with a big glass of water and make sure you know you're making a tit of yourself. Indeed, The Eternal Mother is like a guardian angel, hovering over all those within the pub world and taking care of everyone under her charge. For the love of god, buy your pub's Eternal Mother a drink tomorrow!
Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Showing posts with label booze. Show all posts
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
You Know You're Drunk When...
You Know You're Drunk When...
- ... a kebab seems like the best invention since the fire that cooked it.
- ... setting fire to sambuca, putting it out on your hand then drinking it seems like a brilliant idea.
- ... that gate MUST BE CLIMBED! NO MATTER WHAT!
- ... that girl with the moustache and adams apple looks like Megan Fox.
- ... that angry email you've always wanted to send just flows like poetry. It would be rude to not let them know how you really feel.
- ... all electrical devices that allow you to spend money or communicate with another human being should, in hindsight, have come with a breathaliser. On the plus side, after calling your boss at 3am to ask for a raise you will have plenty of time to watch that Knightrider box set you just ordered.
- ... someone knocking into you accidently becomes grounds for an international incident.
- ... fighting bouncers is the best idea ever. You are more opressed than every minority ever! You should totally storm the club armed with a windscreen wiper shouting "VIVA LA REVOLUTION!"
- ... you feel that undying urge to tell someone you only half know that you love them and want to spend more time with them.
- ... you are male and think you can dance.
Thursday, 18 March 2010
More of those Randoms that you see at Clubs
On Tuesday, we examined those random people that you see out and about at bars, clubs and the like. Today, we are looking at some more. Let's get moving, shall we?
The “No way, you grew up?! And you're hot!?” Girl
I'll play out a little scenario for you, lets see if you can relate. There you are, getting your groove on on the dance floor when all of a sudden this stunning young girl wanders up to you. She knows your name and seems pleased to see you in a shy, teasing sort of way. You immediately think that if a girl like that can wander up to you and know your name, then you should rush out and buy a lottery ticket as clearly your luck is in. Then you give her another look up and down. All of a sudden a crushing and terrifying thought pops into your brain - “OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT IS *old friend*'s LITTLE SISTER! SHE GREW UP! AND SHE IS HOT! WHAT DO I DO!?” That's right – the last time you saw this girl was at least five years ago and she was more interested in dolls and playing house and doing well at school. Now there she is in front of you wearing a skimpy skirt, high heels and a top that shows off two things she did most definately not have the last time you saw her. And she is drinking!? What do you do!? Do you just sort of smile, say hello and walk off? Is she fair game? I mean, you haven't seen *old friend* for a few years, have you? Surely he might not mind if you buy her a drink? After meeting the “No way, you grew up?! And you're hot!?” Girl, you will then spend the next several hours swaying between thinking “Oh my god the last time I saw that girl she was watching the Disney Channel” and “Look at her move on the dance floor!” Head implosion is the likely outcome here.
The “I get girls because I know a celebrity” Guy
I'm not talking about knowing a celebrity in a professional manner here. I'm not even talking about knowing a real celebrity either. The “I get girls because I know a celebrity” Guy usually knows someone who has been on reality television or flamed out spectacularly on some talent show. They may even just be a friend of a relative of someone famous. They aren't anywhere near famous in their own right – they could walk past a paparazzi with their johnson flying in the wind and the camera guys wouldn't so much as feel a twitch in their trigger finger – but by the way that fame sort of trickles down, they are considered on the fringes of celebrity. Still, that is just about enough fame to weaken the integrity of some girls' underwear. Without a word of a lie, when I was a mere simple, stupid teenager one of the guys in my social circle went on Brat Camp. That was a TV show where teenage kids who were absolute douchebags got to go on TV to be straightened out by some tough camp. This guy was on television for one hour one week just for being a complete and utter douche. The amount of girls that got excited was unreal. It totally works both ways too, as the daughters and younger sisters of celebrities are gold dust to men who will work their rear ends off to garner that attention. The moral of the story? People want to frog a celebrity and absolutely any celebrity will do.
The “One Up” Guy
The “One Up” guy is usually a friend of a friend, someone you don't know all that well. You might sort of recognise him, but will only realise that he is a “One Up” guy the first time you have an in depth chat with him. You know that little song that went “Anything you can do I can do better, I can do anything better than you”? This guy is the living embodiment. You played a bit of football in school, maybe even for a non-league team? He had try outs with Premiership clubs. Your band is starting to pick up gigs? He has shared a stage with a number one artist. You saving up to go to the Far East for a few weeks? He spent a year living and working out there. You just bought a new car? They just bought a better one. You know the type. After talking to them for five minutes, you want to punch their smug little face so hard their appendix falls out.
The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl
It is a well known fact that all girls think they are fat, regardless of their actual body type. You can have girls who naturally have shoulders that are about as wide as a matchbox think they are Godzilla and you can have girls that are nice and normal think that if they starve themselves, they can look like matchbox girl. It doesn't matter if you are healthy, normal or what, girls always think they are fat and are always on a diet – it is one of those facts of life. These diets even carry on to the nights out, with those on a serious health kick preferring to drink vodka and tonics and white wine over those notoriously carb heavy shots of tequila and sugary cocktails. They may even make the conscious decision to dance a bit more to sweat off all of those fattening lemon wedges. At the end of the night, while the normal people start looking for something nice and unhealthy to eat The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl starts talking to her friends that are on the same health kick about all the yoghurt and bananas and stuff they can eat when they get back home. Except, as it always is, they are sharing a cab back with someone who is not on a health kick. And that someone will want to go to a kebab van first as, well, you just do when you have tried to replace your blood stream with beer. The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl will grudgingly go along, knowing you cannot convince a drunk person otherwise. Then it happens. As soon as they get there, they can't help but order a double burger and cheesy chip pita wrap. Just so you know, these girls are also the same ones who, for their entire time at school, said they were on a diet and proved it by never eating a thing apart from chocolate from the vending machines.
The “No way, you grew up?! And you're hot!?” Girl
I'll play out a little scenario for you, lets see if you can relate. There you are, getting your groove on on the dance floor when all of a sudden this stunning young girl wanders up to you. She knows your name and seems pleased to see you in a shy, teasing sort of way. You immediately think that if a girl like that can wander up to you and know your name, then you should rush out and buy a lottery ticket as clearly your luck is in. Then you give her another look up and down. All of a sudden a crushing and terrifying thought pops into your brain - “OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT IS *old friend*'s LITTLE SISTER! SHE GREW UP! AND SHE IS HOT! WHAT DO I DO!?” That's right – the last time you saw this girl was at least five years ago and she was more interested in dolls and playing house and doing well at school. Now there she is in front of you wearing a skimpy skirt, high heels and a top that shows off two things she did most definately not have the last time you saw her. And she is drinking!? What do you do!? Do you just sort of smile, say hello and walk off? Is she fair game? I mean, you haven't seen *old friend* for a few years, have you? Surely he might not mind if you buy her a drink? After meeting the “No way, you grew up?! And you're hot!?” Girl, you will then spend the next several hours swaying between thinking “Oh my god the last time I saw that girl she was watching the Disney Channel” and “Look at her move on the dance floor!” Head implosion is the likely outcome here.
The “I get girls because I know a celebrity” Guy
I'm not talking about knowing a celebrity in a professional manner here. I'm not even talking about knowing a real celebrity either. The “I get girls because I know a celebrity” Guy usually knows someone who has been on reality television or flamed out spectacularly on some talent show. They may even just be a friend of a relative of someone famous. They aren't anywhere near famous in their own right – they could walk past a paparazzi with their johnson flying in the wind and the camera guys wouldn't so much as feel a twitch in their trigger finger – but by the way that fame sort of trickles down, they are considered on the fringes of celebrity. Still, that is just about enough fame to weaken the integrity of some girls' underwear. Without a word of a lie, when I was a mere simple, stupid teenager one of the guys in my social circle went on Brat Camp. That was a TV show where teenage kids who were absolute douchebags got to go on TV to be straightened out by some tough camp. This guy was on television for one hour one week just for being a complete and utter douche. The amount of girls that got excited was unreal. It totally works both ways too, as the daughters and younger sisters of celebrities are gold dust to men who will work their rear ends off to garner that attention. The moral of the story? People want to frog a celebrity and absolutely any celebrity will do.
The “One Up” Guy
The “One Up” guy is usually a friend of a friend, someone you don't know all that well. You might sort of recognise him, but will only realise that he is a “One Up” guy the first time you have an in depth chat with him. You know that little song that went “Anything you can do I can do better, I can do anything better than you”? This guy is the living embodiment. You played a bit of football in school, maybe even for a non-league team? He had try outs with Premiership clubs. Your band is starting to pick up gigs? He has shared a stage with a number one artist. You saving up to go to the Far East for a few weeks? He spent a year living and working out there. You just bought a new car? They just bought a better one. You know the type. After talking to them for five minutes, you want to punch their smug little face so hard their appendix falls out.
The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl
It is a well known fact that all girls think they are fat, regardless of their actual body type. You can have girls who naturally have shoulders that are about as wide as a matchbox think they are Godzilla and you can have girls that are nice and normal think that if they starve themselves, they can look like matchbox girl. It doesn't matter if you are healthy, normal or what, girls always think they are fat and are always on a diet – it is one of those facts of life. These diets even carry on to the nights out, with those on a serious health kick preferring to drink vodka and tonics and white wine over those notoriously carb heavy shots of tequila and sugary cocktails. They may even make the conscious decision to dance a bit more to sweat off all of those fattening lemon wedges. At the end of the night, while the normal people start looking for something nice and unhealthy to eat The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl starts talking to her friends that are on the same health kick about all the yoghurt and bananas and stuff they can eat when they get back home. Except, as it always is, they are sharing a cab back with someone who is not on a health kick. And that someone will want to go to a kebab van first as, well, you just do when you have tried to replace your blood stream with beer. The “I'm on a diet, give me that kebab” Girl will grudgingly go along, knowing you cannot convince a drunk person otherwise. Then it happens. As soon as they get there, they can't help but order a double burger and cheesy chip pita wrap. Just so you know, these girls are also the same ones who, for their entire time at school, said they were on a diet and proved it by never eating a thing apart from chocolate from the vending machines.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Those Randoms You See Out At Bars
I don't know if I just happen to semi-know a lot of people, or spend a bit too much time people watching (you know, when you just sort of chill out and watch other people as the world goes by), but when I'm out and about on a Friday or Saturday (or Thursday, or Wednesday... you see where this is going?) night I see an awful lot of people I recognise. Some of them I actually know, either quite well or in a “Hey, aren't you so-or-so's friend? Didn't we go to school together?” sort of way. Some of them I just recognise the stereotype. Anyway, the point is I recognise a lot of people. Here are some of them.
The 'Hey, don't I know you? I don't? Ooooh...' Guy
You all know the feeling. There you are, stood at the bar with drink in hand having a ball when you see someone wander across the room. Your brain, for whatever reason, straight away says “Hey, I know that guy!” You then make a beeline over to them and greet them with a huge hug saying things like “Oh my god John! How are you buddy, I haven't seen you since that end of year party as a freshman?” or “Wow, Craig, awesome to see you? You moved back into the area now? How long has it been?” Thing is, they have no fucking clue who you are. You have basically just wandered up to a stranger and started talking to them. They may look an awful lot like your long lost buddy, but in reality they are just some dude trying to have fun and you are this weirdo who keeps trying to touch them. You either don't know them and never did or they have completely forgotten you. Move away and save at least a shred of dignity. Or quote popular memes from the era.
The 'Oh my god I do NOT want to talk to this screwed up guy' Guy
Usually, the Screwed Up Guy can be found in the smoking areas of clubs that he is far, far too old to frequent. Maybe he remembers the time when the place was a more age appropriate bar. Maybe he was even young enough to go there when it first opened. Usually, though, he just goes there as the cheap booze deals which attract the chronically cash strapped youth also appeal to him. Anyway, we have all met the guy. You wander outside to have a quick smoke and maybe use your phone when all of a sudden this random old drunk dude starts yapping at you. Usually something about 'back in my day' or 'hey I did this once' kind of stuff. You are then left with two choices – give monosyllabic answers as the old drunk douche goes on about something you don't care about, or you end up joining him. The later is considered worthy of the death penalty, by the way. The secret third option is of course to immediately stop drinking in case you turn into them.
The 'Hey, would you buy me a drink?' Girl
You all know the one. She knows every guy in the club. She knows twice as many guys outside of the club who will be willing to give her a lift home. She gets in for free because she is a little favourite of the bouncers. She drinks for free because convinces guys that if they buy her a drink, they will totally have a shot with her. She is also very good at picking on guys. She never picks the confident ones, as they would either be more skilled at coercing something in return or just tell her no. Instead, she picks on the runt of the litter. The guy who doesn't really find big bars and clubs 'his scene'. The guy who looks kind of awkward. The guy who would probably rather be at home seeing if he can get through MGS4 without killing anyone unnecessarily. This guy doesn't see the 'Hey, would you buy me a drink' Girl as what she is – just some girl using her sexuality to score free stuff. Oh no, he sees her as one of those girls which his friends tell him about. He thinks SCORE! I'm in! She thinks I'm cute! I'm going to have sex with her! I'll marry her! I'm in love! Poor guy....
The 'Hey, why are you staring at me you pervert' Girl
We all know them. They will go out dressed in skin tight mini dresses that are considered too long if they go an inch over their bum. They will wear tops which show off their boobs, which have of course been made more alluring with glittery sparkly stuff. They will have spend hours getting themselves ready for the night. They look stunning. Slutty, yes, but still stunning. Then you dare to look at them and all you get back is “What the fuck are you looking at, you pervert?” I'm sorry, but if you are going to spend hours dressing yourself up in clothes that show off your body to the maximum, then you do not get to complain when people stare. Without a word of a lie, one of my friends who is a bit of a 'Hey, why are you staring at me you pervert' Girl went to a Beach Party themed club night in a bikini. Not even a modest bikini either, we are talking skimpy stuff. She wore a big old coat and then she walked in and took it off, the entire band of surrounding guys of course started up. She then turned around and went in all seriousness “What the fuck are you doing that for? Get a life you perverts!” and stormed off. This is a girl who wore a bikini to club getting pissy that people looked. Unbelievable...
More to follow on Thursday! Also, if you liked this you may enjoy Five Different Kinds of Drunk and Five More Different Kinds of Drunk.
The 'Hey, don't I know you? I don't? Ooooh...' Guy
You all know the feeling. There you are, stood at the bar with drink in hand having a ball when you see someone wander across the room. Your brain, for whatever reason, straight away says “Hey, I know that guy!” You then make a beeline over to them and greet them with a huge hug saying things like “Oh my god John! How are you buddy, I haven't seen you since that end of year party as a freshman?” or “Wow, Craig, awesome to see you? You moved back into the area now? How long has it been?” Thing is, they have no fucking clue who you are. You have basically just wandered up to a stranger and started talking to them. They may look an awful lot like your long lost buddy, but in reality they are just some dude trying to have fun and you are this weirdo who keeps trying to touch them. You either don't know them and never did or they have completely forgotten you. Move away and save at least a shred of dignity. Or quote popular memes from the era.
The 'Oh my god I do NOT want to talk to this screwed up guy' Guy
Usually, the Screwed Up Guy can be found in the smoking areas of clubs that he is far, far too old to frequent. Maybe he remembers the time when the place was a more age appropriate bar. Maybe he was even young enough to go there when it first opened. Usually, though, he just goes there as the cheap booze deals which attract the chronically cash strapped youth also appeal to him. Anyway, we have all met the guy. You wander outside to have a quick smoke and maybe use your phone when all of a sudden this random old drunk dude starts yapping at you. Usually something about 'back in my day' or 'hey I did this once' kind of stuff. You are then left with two choices – give monosyllabic answers as the old drunk douche goes on about something you don't care about, or you end up joining him. The later is considered worthy of the death penalty, by the way. The secret third option is of course to immediately stop drinking in case you turn into them.
The 'Hey, would you buy me a drink?' Girl
You all know the one. She knows every guy in the club. She knows twice as many guys outside of the club who will be willing to give her a lift home. She gets in for free because she is a little favourite of the bouncers. She drinks for free because convinces guys that if they buy her a drink, they will totally have a shot with her. She is also very good at picking on guys. She never picks the confident ones, as they would either be more skilled at coercing something in return or just tell her no. Instead, she picks on the runt of the litter. The guy who doesn't really find big bars and clubs 'his scene'. The guy who looks kind of awkward. The guy who would probably rather be at home seeing if he can get through MGS4 without killing anyone unnecessarily. This guy doesn't see the 'Hey, would you buy me a drink' Girl as what she is – just some girl using her sexuality to score free stuff. Oh no, he sees her as one of those girls which his friends tell him about. He thinks SCORE! I'm in! She thinks I'm cute! I'm going to have sex with her! I'll marry her! I'm in love! Poor guy....
The 'Hey, why are you staring at me you pervert' Girl
We all know them. They will go out dressed in skin tight mini dresses that are considered too long if they go an inch over their bum. They will wear tops which show off their boobs, which have of course been made more alluring with glittery sparkly stuff. They will have spend hours getting themselves ready for the night. They look stunning. Slutty, yes, but still stunning. Then you dare to look at them and all you get back is “What the fuck are you looking at, you pervert?” I'm sorry, but if you are going to spend hours dressing yourself up in clothes that show off your body to the maximum, then you do not get to complain when people stare. Without a word of a lie, one of my friends who is a bit of a 'Hey, why are you staring at me you pervert' Girl went to a Beach Party themed club night in a bikini. Not even a modest bikini either, we are talking skimpy stuff. She wore a big old coat and then she walked in and took it off, the entire band of surrounding guys of course started up. She then turned around and went in all seriousness “What the fuck are you doing that for? Get a life you perverts!” and stormed off. This is a girl who wore a bikini to club getting pissy that people looked. Unbelievable...
More to follow on Thursday! Also, if you liked this you may enjoy Five Different Kinds of Drunk and Five More Different Kinds of Drunk.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Five More Different Kinds of Drunk
Seeing as my last outing here, in which I highlighted “Five Different Kinds of Drunk”, was pretty popular (at least according to Google Analytics), I thought I'd do full explanations of the kinds of drunk who only made the honourable mentions list first time around.
I hereby present Five More Different Kinds of Drunk.
Enabling Drunk
The Enabling Drunk is often found right in the heart of all the drama that surrounds a typical night on the town. Whether it is two people having a disagreement, someone being an Emotional Drunk, someone cheating or just any sort of event that is above and beyond the norm of dancing and drinking heavily, you can guarantee that the Enabling Drunk will be smack bam in the middle. They will spur on Emotional Drunks, telling them that their problems are the greatest to ever befoul such a kind soul. They will needlessly stir the pot when two Fight Your Friend Drunks get to each others throats and they will blow any sort of kissing between two people not in a long term relationship completely out of proportion. Enabling Drunks are also the most likely to cry at doormen.
Loud Drunk
There is something about the Loud Drunk that means that with each and every drink that they pour down their beck, their voice creeps ever louder. It will begin with them just talking a tiny bit louder than everyone else. Then they will start talking over everyone else. Then they just don't stop talking. By the end of the night, if anyone is brave enough to be near the Loud Drunk then they must either already be deaf or be wearing earplugs. The Loud Drunk does have their advantages, though, as they are quite often used to order drinks successfully over a noisy bar.
Fight Your Friends Drunk
“Oi you! Yeah, you! You who has been my best mate for at leas five years? What the fuck are you looking at? Did you say something about me? Did you make a pass at my girlfriend? I ought to punch you right in the middle of your fucking face! Come on then! I'll have ya! Oh my god I'm so sorry dude! I never meant to act like that! You're my best friend, I love you man. I'm so sorry. What do you mean you don't accept my apology? I ought to punch you right in the middle of your stupid fucking face!”
Predator Drunk
Predator Drunks are the kinds of drunks who are usually found creeping around the outsides of a nightspot. You will rarely see a Predator Drunk venture into the middle of the dance floor to pick up their victims. Instead you will find them acting far more cunningly, stalking the outside areas looking for vulnerable Emotional Drunks or messy Drunk Drunks. Generally, there are two types of Predator Drunks. Male Predator Drunks will look for women who are either looking in a bit of emotional distress or just Drunk Drunk in order to act the knight in shining armour and swoop in for easy prey. Female Predator Drunks, though, will generally seek out intoxicated below-normal attractive men and make them buy them drinks by flaunting their lady bits. It goes without saying, of course, that Female Predator Drunks will never, ever let anyone actually touch their lady bits, they just want the drinks.
Naked Drunk
Alcohol does things to some people. Sometimes it is a freak, one off occurrence. Sometimes it happens with a disturbing amount of regularity. Whatever the frequency, the end result is always the same – alcohol makes some people get naked. I'm not talking about an 'Alcohol Makes You Sleep With People' thing here, oh no. I mean that get some people drunk and they feel the need to get naked in public. When the Naked Drunk hits that stage, their clothes become an uncomfortable nuisance and all they can think of is being naked and free like a German tourist. Sometimes a guy will take his top off and swirl his shirt around his head. Sometimes a girl will get her boobs out in order to elicit a cheer from a bunch of horny guys. Skinny dipping is usually involved somewhere down the line too, assuming a large enough body of water can be found. The exact situation matters not, though. All that matters is the point that Naked Drunks like to get naked.
I hereby present Five More Different Kinds of Drunk.
Enabling Drunk
The Enabling Drunk is often found right in the heart of all the drama that surrounds a typical night on the town. Whether it is two people having a disagreement, someone being an Emotional Drunk, someone cheating or just any sort of event that is above and beyond the norm of dancing and drinking heavily, you can guarantee that the Enabling Drunk will be smack bam in the middle. They will spur on Emotional Drunks, telling them that their problems are the greatest to ever befoul such a kind soul. They will needlessly stir the pot when two Fight Your Friend Drunks get to each others throats and they will blow any sort of kissing between two people not in a long term relationship completely out of proportion. Enabling Drunks are also the most likely to cry at doormen.
Loud Drunk
There is something about the Loud Drunk that means that with each and every drink that they pour down their beck, their voice creeps ever louder. It will begin with them just talking a tiny bit louder than everyone else. Then they will start talking over everyone else. Then they just don't stop talking. By the end of the night, if anyone is brave enough to be near the Loud Drunk then they must either already be deaf or be wearing earplugs. The Loud Drunk does have their advantages, though, as they are quite often used to order drinks successfully over a noisy bar.
Fight Your Friends Drunk
“Oi you! Yeah, you! You who has been my best mate for at leas five years? What the fuck are you looking at? Did you say something about me? Did you make a pass at my girlfriend? I ought to punch you right in the middle of your fucking face! Come on then! I'll have ya! Oh my god I'm so sorry dude! I never meant to act like that! You're my best friend, I love you man. I'm so sorry. What do you mean you don't accept my apology? I ought to punch you right in the middle of your stupid fucking face!”
Predator Drunk
Predator Drunks are the kinds of drunks who are usually found creeping around the outsides of a nightspot. You will rarely see a Predator Drunk venture into the middle of the dance floor to pick up their victims. Instead you will find them acting far more cunningly, stalking the outside areas looking for vulnerable Emotional Drunks or messy Drunk Drunks. Generally, there are two types of Predator Drunks. Male Predator Drunks will look for women who are either looking in a bit of emotional distress or just Drunk Drunk in order to act the knight in shining armour and swoop in for easy prey. Female Predator Drunks, though, will generally seek out intoxicated below-normal attractive men and make them buy them drinks by flaunting their lady bits. It goes without saying, of course, that Female Predator Drunks will never, ever let anyone actually touch their lady bits, they just want the drinks.
Naked Drunk
Alcohol does things to some people. Sometimes it is a freak, one off occurrence. Sometimes it happens with a disturbing amount of regularity. Whatever the frequency, the end result is always the same – alcohol makes some people get naked. I'm not talking about an 'Alcohol Makes You Sleep With People' thing here, oh no. I mean that get some people drunk and they feel the need to get naked in public. When the Naked Drunk hits that stage, their clothes become an uncomfortable nuisance and all they can think of is being naked and free like a German tourist. Sometimes a guy will take his top off and swirl his shirt around his head. Sometimes a girl will get her boobs out in order to elicit a cheer from a bunch of horny guys. Skinny dipping is usually involved somewhere down the line too, assuming a large enough body of water can be found. The exact situation matters not, though. All that matters is the point that Naked Drunks like to get naked.
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Five Different Kinds of Drunk
This might be surprising to some people, but I got drunk last night. And while I was in this drunken state, I started coming up with theories. It is something I often do, as my mind is usually more productive when it has umpteen pints of beer in it. Although, last night it was closer to umpteen measures of whiskey in it. Anyway, I digress...
When I got drunk last night, I started theorising about the different kinds of drunk there are. I don't mean stuff like “It's fun to go out drinking with Steve, he is a really great guy when he is hammered” or “Never, ever go out drinking with Brian, he gets awfully stabby after his third mojito.” No no, I mean that quite normal people can get different kinds of 'drunk'. Sometimes they get funny, sometimes they get rude, sometimes they get violent and sometimes they get naked and pretend they are a clown. It happens. Lets examine some of the more common kinds of drunk people get.
Hungry Drunk
This, I will admit, is what I was last night. I don't know why, but sometimes when the beers are rushing through your veins all you can think of doing is eating your body weight in whatever food you can get your hands on. It is when you are feeling Hungry Drunk that a visit to the kebab van takes on a whole new meaning. Instead of just grabbing a box of chips, a burger or (if you are feeling incredibly brave\drunk) a kebab, you just take a long look in your wallet and buy as much food as you can afford. You then get home and make a bacon sandwich, have a bowl of cereal and take the first thing you see in the fridge to bed with you as a late snack.
Lewd Drunk
There is always one, and they are almost always male. Stick a few gins down his neck and all of a sudden the upper male brain shuts down and the lower male brain takes over. In the Lewd Drunk's head, he may believe that he is cooing out words of woo that would make Hugh Hefner look like a gawky kid at their first spin-the-bottle party. However, in actuality all he is doing is asking girls to get their boobs out and running up a pretty long list of things that will just add to the next morning's hangover pain. This never stops the Lewd Drunk, though, as in their mind the only thing women like more than being objectified is being drooled over! Score!
Sick Drunk
More often than not, the Sick Drunk will start the night off saying things like 'Oh, I don't really drink much' or 'I suppose I'll just have a bottle of beer, I guess'. At about the halfway point, when the regular drinkers who know how to handle their hooch are either starting to just maintain a buzz or dive into the deep end of Black Out Cove, the Sick Drunk is usually already far drunker than they ever have been. By the end of the night, when others are busy making sloppy passes at the opposite sex or twitching violently on the dance floor, the Sick Drunk is usually in the bathroom removing the entire night's alcohol from their system in one foul swoop. They will then continue to do this all the way home, all through the night and, if you are really lucky, throughout the next morning. Oh, and they also create an awful lot of drama.
Gay Drunk
We all have those friends. What better way is it to appeal to the opposite sex than, when the drinks have duly been pounded, to get a little up close and personal with your same sex buddies? It is a plan that can never fail! With guys, they often get awfully up close and personal with their same-sex friends in order to make sure that all the womenfolk in the joint know that they are secure with their sexuality, love the attention and are fun guys. With girls, is there a better way to show that they are sexy little minxes than by macking with their bestest friends? Once again, it is a plan that can NEVER fail!
Emotional Drunk
They are the one who, while the rest of your group are inside pounding the shots and working on making sure that walking in a straight line will be a significant issue for many days to come, is sat outside in the smoking area pouring their heart out. Maybe they have just been dumped, maybe the person they are 'totally in love with' has just shot them down or maybe they are just frustrated with something that is trivial the rest of the year, but at that exact moment in time is the greatest drama to ever befoul a life ever. Whatever the reason, the emotional drunk will spend most of the evening out gushing about their massive problems to anyone willing to listen before promptly not giving two shits as soon as they sober up. Emotional Drunks are also usually found in pairs with an Enabling Drunk, who will convince them that they are right and their lives are so drama filled that someone could easily make an Oscar winning film about it. Or partnered with a Predator Drunk who is hoping to take advantage.
Honourable Mentions: Enabling Drunk, Loud Drunk, Fight Your Friends Drunk, Predator Drunk, Naked Drunk
When I got drunk last night, I started theorising about the different kinds of drunk there are. I don't mean stuff like “It's fun to go out drinking with Steve, he is a really great guy when he is hammered” or “Never, ever go out drinking with Brian, he gets awfully stabby after his third mojito.” No no, I mean that quite normal people can get different kinds of 'drunk'. Sometimes they get funny, sometimes they get rude, sometimes they get violent and sometimes they get naked and pretend they are a clown. It happens. Lets examine some of the more common kinds of drunk people get.
Hungry Drunk
This, I will admit, is what I was last night. I don't know why, but sometimes when the beers are rushing through your veins all you can think of doing is eating your body weight in whatever food you can get your hands on. It is when you are feeling Hungry Drunk that a visit to the kebab van takes on a whole new meaning. Instead of just grabbing a box of chips, a burger or (if you are feeling incredibly brave\drunk) a kebab, you just take a long look in your wallet and buy as much food as you can afford. You then get home and make a bacon sandwich, have a bowl of cereal and take the first thing you see in the fridge to bed with you as a late snack.
Lewd Drunk
There is always one, and they are almost always male. Stick a few gins down his neck and all of a sudden the upper male brain shuts down and the lower male brain takes over. In the Lewd Drunk's head, he may believe that he is cooing out words of woo that would make Hugh Hefner look like a gawky kid at their first spin-the-bottle party. However, in actuality all he is doing is asking girls to get their boobs out and running up a pretty long list of things that will just add to the next morning's hangover pain. This never stops the Lewd Drunk, though, as in their mind the only thing women like more than being objectified is being drooled over! Score!
Sick Drunk
More often than not, the Sick Drunk will start the night off saying things like 'Oh, I don't really drink much' or 'I suppose I'll just have a bottle of beer, I guess'. At about the halfway point, when the regular drinkers who know how to handle their hooch are either starting to just maintain a buzz or dive into the deep end of Black Out Cove, the Sick Drunk is usually already far drunker than they ever have been. By the end of the night, when others are busy making sloppy passes at the opposite sex or twitching violently on the dance floor, the Sick Drunk is usually in the bathroom removing the entire night's alcohol from their system in one foul swoop. They will then continue to do this all the way home, all through the night and, if you are really lucky, throughout the next morning. Oh, and they also create an awful lot of drama.
Gay Drunk
We all have those friends. What better way is it to appeal to the opposite sex than, when the drinks have duly been pounded, to get a little up close and personal with your same sex buddies? It is a plan that can never fail! With guys, they often get awfully up close and personal with their same-sex friends in order to make sure that all the womenfolk in the joint know that they are secure with their sexuality, love the attention and are fun guys. With girls, is there a better way to show that they are sexy little minxes than by macking with their bestest friends? Once again, it is a plan that can NEVER fail!
Emotional Drunk
They are the one who, while the rest of your group are inside pounding the shots and working on making sure that walking in a straight line will be a significant issue for many days to come, is sat outside in the smoking area pouring their heart out. Maybe they have just been dumped, maybe the person they are 'totally in love with' has just shot them down or maybe they are just frustrated with something that is trivial the rest of the year, but at that exact moment in time is the greatest drama to ever befoul a life ever. Whatever the reason, the emotional drunk will spend most of the evening out gushing about their massive problems to anyone willing to listen before promptly not giving two shits as soon as they sober up. Emotional Drunks are also usually found in pairs with an Enabling Drunk, who will convince them that they are right and their lives are so drama filled that someone could easily make an Oscar winning film about it. Or partnered with a Predator Drunk who is hoping to take advantage.
Honourable Mentions: Enabling Drunk, Loud Drunk, Fight Your Friends Drunk, Predator Drunk, Naked Drunk
Sunday, 20 December 2009
Snow!
Credit for this awesome photo goes here
Well this snow is fucking ridiculous. I mean who in the blue balled cauldron of Croydon thought it would be a great idea to make it snow just before Christmas? I mean, on Christmas snowing is more than acceptable. If anything it should be encouraged. After Christmas and around NYE too is fantastic. But in the week building up to Christmas, when people still have to get to work, go shopping, drive half way around the country to see other bits of family and do stuff which generally needs the roads to be clear and trains to run, having Ol' Jack Frost shit his white stuff all over the country is not helpful in the slightest.
I've nearly smashed my car up twice already attempting to get to places I need to be and have nearly fallen flat on my arse a few times after my dipshit neighbours decided to clear their drive ways with water. This is not a lie. I've caught a few of them running their hose down their drive to clear the snow off it. The concept of gritting and salting is foreign to these people. How they can eat their breakfast without losing all their teeth chewing on a rock baffles me.
Anyway, aside from the general disruption to the simple things in life like buying milk that snow brings, it has another down side. It makes you ill. I'm not shitting you, as an adult snow makes you ill. And you want to know why? It's all your parents fault.
When it snowed when you were a kid, your parents wrapped you up warm, sent you out with a coat and gloves and scarf and hat and thermals and spear and everything you may need for a right rip roaring old Arctic adventure. Then, when the playing was done and you got back in, they made sure that you changed out of your wet, cold clothes and put on some nice warm stuff. They may have even made you something nice and warming to eat. Oh, what a glorious time it was. Nowadays, in adult life it seems you just come in out of the cold, go to the pub and get ill. The two times it has snowed this year, I've gotten ill. The first time was back in February when we had the Superbowl party up at the O2. When we all turfed out the whole place was covered in snow, so 1,000 drunk NFL fans had a big old snowball fight. As you do. The next day I felt like shit.
Last night I was out celebrating a friend's birthday. There was already still a pretty solid amount of snow still left frosting the locality, but hey ho that good old douchebag Jack Frost decided to throw some more down. This meant that we had to play in it. It isn't like you have a choice in these things. Put a bunch of beered up early 20-somethings in the snow and we will play. Deal with it. So, we threw snowballs, did some bundles, tackled each other, tried to de-trou people and what not. It was a tremendous lark. And then we all went inside and drank some more, singing songs of the joys of Christmas.
Today, I've woken up with a thick head and a sore throat. I'm ill, and it must be the snow's fault. That fucker got me sick, and not a week before Christmas proper and all. I'm going to punch Jack Frost in the face.
Anyway, you want to know the end result of my experimentations with snow? I'm telling you, no matter how old you are you need your parents around when it snows or else you will die. End of story.
By the way, assuming I survive the night and make it to Tuesday, expect that to be the last post of the year. Christmas for me starts on the 23rd and I aim to sober up again sometime around the 5th of January.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Drinking Theory
Right, I think I've just about recovered from my weekend of helping someone move hosue. I don't mind if I'm still feeling spectacularly craptacular on a Tuesday if it is because I've been out debauching, misbehaving and pouring a few litres of controlled poison down my neck. In that scenario I do a little dance of joy and sing the praises to the alcohol gods. Unlike many, I accept hangovers as part of the fun. If going on 60 hour benders was easy then every sod would be doing it. No no, hangovers are some deity's way of making sure that only the strong go on such manic drinking sprees.
Sure, you get the weekend warriors who think it is hardcore to go out on Friday AND Saturday night. Don't get me wrong, it is commendable. The drinking of the beer is a highly respectable phenomenon and should be done as often as possible. Students too are good at this, as are estate agents and recruitment consultants. Those are pastimes that seem to be fuelled by booze.
I myself cannot deny that I enjoy a hearty drink from time to time. Although life as a freelancer often means that invoicing levels are directly related to my blood alcohol one, when the bills are paid drinking is one of my favourite hobbies. That and my aquarium.
Actually, though, when you think about it drinking pretty much defies logic. Back in the dark, distant and dingy past of a few years ago when I was still being given some form of an education, one of the classes I took was Psychology. It was actually pretty good fun. I nearly did it at Uni, but then realised the thought of spending another 5 years in education both bored and terrified me. Being a writer that lives month to month is much more rewarding.
Our Psych teacher was actually pretty cool for, you know, a teacher. Not only did Dr. B know her stuff, she also knew how to deal with a bunch of 18 year olds. Sometimes she would do little friendly experiments on us when we got a bit know-it-all, whenever a phone went off she would over analyse the ring tone and we would get onto some terrific tangents. One day, thanks to a big social event the night before, literally her entire class was hung over. How any of us had even made it into college was a mystery. Dr. B tried valiantly to teach us the lesson plan but it was to no avail. We were just counting down the time until the bell so we could head into town for some grease.
In the end we started talking about drinking, which made most of us wretch thoroughly. Who on earth would want to think about drinking in the grips of an almighty hangover? Then she told us something quite interesting. I still find it interesting. I will now tell you, and hopefully you will find it interesting.
Drinking so much alcohol that you fall down wetting yourself in a doorway before eating a Spaniel kebab from a hairy little man and falling asleep on the stairs pretty much defies logic and psychological theory. In theory, after your first hangover you should not want to drink again. We all know about the reinforcement theory of how people learn behaviour – if it is positive, you do it again where as if it is negative you don't. Well, as anyone can tell you, being hungover is most definitely a negative. Yet people still do it. I suppose you could argue that the amount of fun you have before the hangover begins outweighs the hangover itself, but frankly when you are that drunk you've blacked out for most of the fun times and just have a searing headache and wobbly bowels.
Yet people still go drinking anyway. I just find that interesting. Now, anyone fancy a pint?
Sure, you get the weekend warriors who think it is hardcore to go out on Friday AND Saturday night. Don't get me wrong, it is commendable. The drinking of the beer is a highly respectable phenomenon and should be done as often as possible. Students too are good at this, as are estate agents and recruitment consultants. Those are pastimes that seem to be fuelled by booze.
I myself cannot deny that I enjoy a hearty drink from time to time. Although life as a freelancer often means that invoicing levels are directly related to my blood alcohol one, when the bills are paid drinking is one of my favourite hobbies. That and my aquarium.
Actually, though, when you think about it drinking pretty much defies logic. Back in the dark, distant and dingy past of a few years ago when I was still being given some form of an education, one of the classes I took was Psychology. It was actually pretty good fun. I nearly did it at Uni, but then realised the thought of spending another 5 years in education both bored and terrified me. Being a writer that lives month to month is much more rewarding.
Our Psych teacher was actually pretty cool for, you know, a teacher. Not only did Dr. B know her stuff, she also knew how to deal with a bunch of 18 year olds. Sometimes she would do little friendly experiments on us when we got a bit know-it-all, whenever a phone went off she would over analyse the ring tone and we would get onto some terrific tangents. One day, thanks to a big social event the night before, literally her entire class was hung over. How any of us had even made it into college was a mystery. Dr. B tried valiantly to teach us the lesson plan but it was to no avail. We were just counting down the time until the bell so we could head into town for some grease.
In the end we started talking about drinking, which made most of us wretch thoroughly. Who on earth would want to think about drinking in the grips of an almighty hangover? Then she told us something quite interesting. I still find it interesting. I will now tell you, and hopefully you will find it interesting.
Drinking so much alcohol that you fall down wetting yourself in a doorway before eating a Spaniel kebab from a hairy little man and falling asleep on the stairs pretty much defies logic and psychological theory. In theory, after your first hangover you should not want to drink again. We all know about the reinforcement theory of how people learn behaviour – if it is positive, you do it again where as if it is negative you don't. Well, as anyone can tell you, being hungover is most definitely a negative. Yet people still do it. I suppose you could argue that the amount of fun you have before the hangover begins outweighs the hangover itself, but frankly when you are that drunk you've blacked out for most of the fun times and just have a searing headache and wobbly bowels.
Yet people still go drinking anyway. I just find that interesting. Now, anyone fancy a pint?
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Cat Story
I swear to you that this story is true. This is the kind of silly life I lead.
On Friday, I didn't get done working till rather late. By that point, I couldn't be jacked to go and have a proper night out so I just made like a sad old man and walked up to the local pub for a few beers.
All seemed perfectly normal, I said hello to a few people and meandered outside for a cigarette. While outside doing my bestest to shorten my lifespan, I noticed a ginger cat chilling in the smoking area. Now, I hadn't ever seen this cat before in my life. It seemed quite friendly though. After a bit of investigation, I found out that someone had brought it down from another pub and that it was “his” cat. When he went to leave, he picked the cat up by the scruff, literally threw it in his jacked and marched off. I did think “what a prick” but, as I'm British so very reserved, didn't say anything to him. Before I finished my cigarette, though, he had thrown the thing back in the pub on his way off to god knows where.
Now, as always when you get a slightly odd situation in a pub, a roomful of men dissect and over analyse it. It all adds to the drama. We decided it didn't know where it was, as when all the humans went away the cat continued to just chill out outside. We decided it wasn't local to the pub (well, local in cat terms...) as nobody had seen it before. We therefore decided that the guy who had grabbed it and brought it down was in fact that much of an assclown that he grabbed a random cat. Come to think about it, yesterday when I mentioned that someone should do something I was told “I wouldn't, he will burn your house down.” Nice guy, then.
I considered bringing it home, but then thought better of it. It might have wandered home, it didn't seem in too much danger of being hit by a car and seeing as I was staying with my parents I didn't think they would like having this random cat brought home. Plus, we only put the family cat down last week. Too soon, man, too soon...
Anyway, I was last one out the pub. I suppose that is pretty normal really. I said goodbye to the cat, stuck in my headphones and began the walk back home. Except, when I stopped and got to the main road, I saw this little thing dart along the street. The sodding cat had followed me. I thought, as I was walking in the direction from which it was earlier snatched, it was just on it's way home. Except when I crossed the road, so did it. And when I walked down my road, so did it. It was most definitely following me. When I got to within about 30 metres of my house I was sure that it did not belong to anyone down my street and that it was for the best if I just brought the little critter back to mine. It happily followed me, and was in the front door as soon as I opened it.
Now, I had a decision to make. I had this random, strange cat follow me home. What the hell do you do? Looking at it, it had been well fed, although it showed a few signs of recent weight loss. I decided to chuck the thing some food and then went about my business. It seemed happy to chill out in the house. It unlocked the cat flap and it even went out and came back in.
By the time I went to sleep, I had shut it in the kitchen so it could get outside but not get around the rest of the house. In the morning, it was gone. I assumed it had gotten over being grabbed and yanked by the cuff, had some food and just sort of catted off somewhere.
Yesterday afternoon, however, the thing turfed back up. My dad instantly recognised the thing as a local cat who used to both play with the old family cat and sometimes sneak in and try to steal our old cat's food. Safe in the knowledge it was local, we just ignored it and thought it would go home at some point when it got hungry.
Except, it didn't. It hung around all evening. And all night. I heard it meowing when I went to sleep, and when I woke up this morning I heard it meow again. It hadn't been anywhere but our front door step. Taking pity on it, we gave it some food. It had been there all night and, although I don't exactly want the thing keeping on coming back, felt sorry for it.
Anyway, that's pretty much it. TL;DR - This damned cat followed me home and is trying to move in. Tomorrow we'll call the RSPCA and get some advice. Might even see if they will send an officer to give it a scan and see if it's chipped (no collar, you see). Assuming that nobody has reported the thing missing to the RSPCA, which they may well have done as it would have been missing since Friday afternoon, we will see if it can be identified. Failing that, we'll leave it with them.
Then, we get a really effed up decision. What happens if nobody claims him or an owner can't be found? Do... do we keep it?
Sort of nothingy post I know, but all weekend has been focused around this darn cat.
On Friday, I didn't get done working till rather late. By that point, I couldn't be jacked to go and have a proper night out so I just made like a sad old man and walked up to the local pub for a few beers.
All seemed perfectly normal, I said hello to a few people and meandered outside for a cigarette. While outside doing my bestest to shorten my lifespan, I noticed a ginger cat chilling in the smoking area. Now, I hadn't ever seen this cat before in my life. It seemed quite friendly though. After a bit of investigation, I found out that someone had brought it down from another pub and that it was “his” cat. When he went to leave, he picked the cat up by the scruff, literally threw it in his jacked and marched off. I did think “what a prick” but, as I'm British so very reserved, didn't say anything to him. Before I finished my cigarette, though, he had thrown the thing back in the pub on his way off to god knows where.
Now, as always when you get a slightly odd situation in a pub, a roomful of men dissect and over analyse it. It all adds to the drama. We decided it didn't know where it was, as when all the humans went away the cat continued to just chill out outside. We decided it wasn't local to the pub (well, local in cat terms...) as nobody had seen it before. We therefore decided that the guy who had grabbed it and brought it down was in fact that much of an assclown that he grabbed a random cat. Come to think about it, yesterday when I mentioned that someone should do something I was told “I wouldn't, he will burn your house down.” Nice guy, then.
I considered bringing it home, but then thought better of it. It might have wandered home, it didn't seem in too much danger of being hit by a car and seeing as I was staying with my parents I didn't think they would like having this random cat brought home. Plus, we only put the family cat down last week. Too soon, man, too soon...
Anyway, I was last one out the pub. I suppose that is pretty normal really. I said goodbye to the cat, stuck in my headphones and began the walk back home. Except, when I stopped and got to the main road, I saw this little thing dart along the street. The sodding cat had followed me. I thought, as I was walking in the direction from which it was earlier snatched, it was just on it's way home. Except when I crossed the road, so did it. And when I walked down my road, so did it. It was most definitely following me. When I got to within about 30 metres of my house I was sure that it did not belong to anyone down my street and that it was for the best if I just brought the little critter back to mine. It happily followed me, and was in the front door as soon as I opened it.
Now, I had a decision to make. I had this random, strange cat follow me home. What the hell do you do? Looking at it, it had been well fed, although it showed a few signs of recent weight loss. I decided to chuck the thing some food and then went about my business. It seemed happy to chill out in the house. It unlocked the cat flap and it even went out and came back in.
By the time I went to sleep, I had shut it in the kitchen so it could get outside but not get around the rest of the house. In the morning, it was gone. I assumed it had gotten over being grabbed and yanked by the cuff, had some food and just sort of catted off somewhere.
Yesterday afternoon, however, the thing turfed back up. My dad instantly recognised the thing as a local cat who used to both play with the old family cat and sometimes sneak in and try to steal our old cat's food. Safe in the knowledge it was local, we just ignored it and thought it would go home at some point when it got hungry.
Except, it didn't. It hung around all evening. And all night. I heard it meowing when I went to sleep, and when I woke up this morning I heard it meow again. It hadn't been anywhere but our front door step. Taking pity on it, we gave it some food. It had been there all night and, although I don't exactly want the thing keeping on coming back, felt sorry for it.
Anyway, that's pretty much it. TL;DR - This damned cat followed me home and is trying to move in. Tomorrow we'll call the RSPCA and get some advice. Might even see if they will send an officer to give it a scan and see if it's chipped (no collar, you see). Assuming that nobody has reported the thing missing to the RSPCA, which they may well have done as it would have been missing since Friday afternoon, we will see if it can be identified. Failing that, we'll leave it with them.
Then, we get a really effed up decision. What happens if nobody claims him or an owner can't be found? Do... do we keep it?
Sort of nothingy post I know, but all weekend has been focused around this darn cat.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Things I Do To Keep Myself Sane
When people ask me what it's like working from home, I tell them that it is better than being thrown groin first into an oily pit of supermodels. I don't have a boss looking over my shoulder, I don't have to get up at a set time so long as I stick 10 hours a day in and I don't have to commute anywhere further than down the hall and downstairs.
In actuality, it's pretty dull. I don't have co-workers to chat to. I don't have a boss to hate on. I just sit at my desk with a justin.tv stream going all day and mainly churn out press releases and short web content articles that don't allow for dick jokes. When you also factor in that I can often go for a few days without actually leaving the house, you get a pretty solid picture of my life. I call it the 'struggling writer' lifestyle, where as many others call it the 'sad sack' one.
To combat this, I've build up a number of protocols to keep my from bouncing off the walls in sheer madness. The 3 I use most are -
1) Facebook
I hate Facebook with all my soul. I hate the fact that it makes me feel self conscious that I only have 200 friends. The fact that I actually know all 200 of the people and could easily invite them out for a beer is neither here nor there. I also only have 98 photos. I just don't take a digital camera with me on nights out and cannot be bothered to edit, label and tag entire reams of photos.
However, I find myself increasingly using it to talk to people. Back in the day, everyone used to use MSN Messenger. Today, I have about 9 people who are still old school and are logged on at times. Therefore, I am left with little option but to log on to Facebook if I want human interaction. I hate it, it makes it look like I enjoy Facebook. Also, it makes it look like I do nothing all day as I'm always on Facebook.
2) Fish
I bought an aquarium. I will admit, I am a little bit of a fan of various animals and figured that buying an aquarium would give me something to do. Where as in an office, people often go outside and smoke or make rounds of tea to take a break, I have no such luck. I can smoke at my desk and I don't like tea. Obviously, the logical thing to do to get me away from my desk for 10 minutes at a time was to buy an aquarium to tend to.
I regret nothing. Sure, it costs £150 odd to set up a decent tank and put fish in it, but it is tremendous fun. One of my fish is even named after Nat Coombs, the guy who hosts the NFL On Five coverage after a few emails got read out on air. I recommend fish keeping to everyone and will probably write an idiots guide to fish keeping on Thursday.
3) Taking The Laptop To The Pub
I admit that this is probably cheating a bit, but it works. Although a vast majority of my time is spent doing jobs for other people, I do try to make sure I have at least a day a week where I don't have to do any paid work so I can work on my own stuff. Along with churning out some gibbering rubbish here thrice a week, I write a fair old bit of stuff that doesn't see the light of day straight away. I've got one book manuscript that is doing the rounds until someones decides to recognise my genius and publish it, I'm a solid start into another and I'm also working on a charity book.
For all of these things, I don't need the Internet, email and such. Nor does it matter if I'm under the influence while writing them, as I edit my work to a stupid degree at times. So I pack up my laptop and head off to the pub.
Speaking of which, it is beer o'clock. See ya'll later!
In actuality, it's pretty dull. I don't have co-workers to chat to. I don't have a boss to hate on. I just sit at my desk with a justin.tv stream going all day and mainly churn out press releases and short web content articles that don't allow for dick jokes. When you also factor in that I can often go for a few days without actually leaving the house, you get a pretty solid picture of my life. I call it the 'struggling writer' lifestyle, where as many others call it the 'sad sack' one.
To combat this, I've build up a number of protocols to keep my from bouncing off the walls in sheer madness. The 3 I use most are -
1) Facebook
I hate Facebook with all my soul. I hate the fact that it makes me feel self conscious that I only have 200 friends. The fact that I actually know all 200 of the people and could easily invite them out for a beer is neither here nor there. I also only have 98 photos. I just don't take a digital camera with me on nights out and cannot be bothered to edit, label and tag entire reams of photos.
However, I find myself increasingly using it to talk to people. Back in the day, everyone used to use MSN Messenger. Today, I have about 9 people who are still old school and are logged on at times. Therefore, I am left with little option but to log on to Facebook if I want human interaction. I hate it, it makes it look like I enjoy Facebook. Also, it makes it look like I do nothing all day as I'm always on Facebook.
2) Fish
I bought an aquarium. I will admit, I am a little bit of a fan of various animals and figured that buying an aquarium would give me something to do. Where as in an office, people often go outside and smoke or make rounds of tea to take a break, I have no such luck. I can smoke at my desk and I don't like tea. Obviously, the logical thing to do to get me away from my desk for 10 minutes at a time was to buy an aquarium to tend to.
I regret nothing. Sure, it costs £150 odd to set up a decent tank and put fish in it, but it is tremendous fun. One of my fish is even named after Nat Coombs, the guy who hosts the NFL On Five coverage after a few emails got read out on air. I recommend fish keeping to everyone and will probably write an idiots guide to fish keeping on Thursday.
3) Taking The Laptop To The Pub
I admit that this is probably cheating a bit, but it works. Although a vast majority of my time is spent doing jobs for other people, I do try to make sure I have at least a day a week where I don't have to do any paid work so I can work on my own stuff. Along with churning out some gibbering rubbish here thrice a week, I write a fair old bit of stuff that doesn't see the light of day straight away. I've got one book manuscript that is doing the rounds until someones decides to recognise my genius and publish it, I'm a solid start into another and I'm also working on a charity book.
For all of these things, I don't need the Internet, email and such. Nor does it matter if I'm under the influence while writing them, as I edit my work to a stupid degree at times. So I pack up my laptop and head off to the pub.
Speaking of which, it is beer o'clock. See ya'll later!
Monday, 2 November 2009
How you know if you had a good Halloween...
4am - Somehow make it to bed. Pass Out.
11am – Wake up in agony. Use bathroom, drink whatever liquid is on bedside table. Go back to sleep.
Midday – Wake up again. Eat rest of chow mein that was somehow obtained the night before. Go back to sleep.
1pm – Finally get up. Stumble downstairs. First flashbacks of inappropriate behaviour. Spend next hour breathing quietly in the corner. Take first aspirin.
2pm – Consider eating something. Think better of it.
2:30pm – Eat something. Regret it quickly. Spend more time breathing quietly in corner.
3pm – Track down phone. Check for drunken calls, texts and emails that may have been sent.
3:30pm – Firm reminders of inappropriate behaviour return. Breathe quietly in the corner while groaning.
4pm – Regain will to live.
4:30pm – Attempt first cigarette of day. Big mistake. Take two drags, dry heave and stub out. Will to live retreats again.
5pm – Check credit card balance. Pray that nothing was bought online.
5:30pm – Check wallet for cash. Find no notes but a small fortune in change.
6pm – Get phone call to check if you're still alive. When the answer is yes, get surprised answer.
8pm – Finally get enough liquid back in body to urinate. Get cocky and try another cigarette.
9pm – Finally the blood alcohol levels drop down to sane levels. Drive to fast food place and buy as much food as change allows.
10pm – Slink in front of sofa and suffer the affects of fast food. Check poker account to make sure no gambling occurred.
11pm – Go back to bed. Check Facebook on laptop. Loose will to live again.
11:30pm – Beer poo.
12:30am – Try to sleep. Body too broken to even achieve that.
1am – Start playing video games. Big mistake. Start feeling much better.
4am – Realise it is 4am. Feel almost back to full health.
6am – Go to sleep.
10am – Alarm clock goes off as you have to start working. Will to live completely goes.
7pm – Return to scene of crime. Be told of full details. Be surprised you were even allowed back in. Start planning fireworks night party to do it all over again.
11am – Wake up in agony. Use bathroom, drink whatever liquid is on bedside table. Go back to sleep.
Midday – Wake up again. Eat rest of chow mein that was somehow obtained the night before. Go back to sleep.
1pm – Finally get up. Stumble downstairs. First flashbacks of inappropriate behaviour. Spend next hour breathing quietly in the corner. Take first aspirin.
2pm – Consider eating something. Think better of it.
2:30pm – Eat something. Regret it quickly. Spend more time breathing quietly in corner.
3pm – Track down phone. Check for drunken calls, texts and emails that may have been sent.
3:30pm – Firm reminders of inappropriate behaviour return. Breathe quietly in the corner while groaning.
4pm – Regain will to live.
4:30pm – Attempt first cigarette of day. Big mistake. Take two drags, dry heave and stub out. Will to live retreats again.
5pm – Check credit card balance. Pray that nothing was bought online.
5:30pm – Check wallet for cash. Find no notes but a small fortune in change.
6pm – Get phone call to check if you're still alive. When the answer is yes, get surprised answer.
8pm – Finally get enough liquid back in body to urinate. Get cocky and try another cigarette.
9pm – Finally the blood alcohol levels drop down to sane levels. Drive to fast food place and buy as much food as change allows.
10pm – Slink in front of sofa and suffer the affects of fast food. Check poker account to make sure no gambling occurred.
11pm – Go back to bed. Check Facebook on laptop. Loose will to live again.
11:30pm – Beer poo.
12:30am – Try to sleep. Body too broken to even achieve that.
1am – Start playing video games. Big mistake. Start feeling much better.
4am – Realise it is 4am. Feel almost back to full health.
6am – Go to sleep.
10am – Alarm clock goes off as you have to start working. Will to live completely goes.
7pm – Return to scene of crime. Be told of full details. Be surprised you were even allowed back in. Start planning fireworks night party to do it all over again.
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