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 theory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theory. Show all posts
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Women, and their part in the downfall of the Internet
Back in the old dark days of t'internet, it used to be that all men were men, all women were men and all children were FBI agents. It was the rule of thumb, and that was that.
In this Eternal September era of the internet, though, all sorts of folk are online. It's amazing. I've even seen women, and not ugly frumpy ones who live with 17 cats, use the interweb! And not in the 'You have to pay to see me' way either, actual real womenfolk using it for their own personal enjoyment. It's incredible and borderline life affirming. Thing is, it also often leads to disaster.
We all know that the internet is made up mainly of men. Of those which spend a serious amount of time on the internet, the kinds who belong to WoW guilds and are regulars to Justiv.tv chat rooms and the like, most of them are geeky guys. There is nothing wrong with that, frankly I'm probably classed as a geeky guy, and it is something that has major advantages. The downside is that more often than not, throw a genuinely hot girl into the mix and things start to go a little haywire. It's a bit like the excellent TV show The Big Bang Theory, except with less wit and more flame wars.
It is an unwritten law of the Internet that each and every big online streaming 'channel', every forum and every World of Warcraft guild must have at least one hot girl. It is like the changing of the seasons or Chuck Norris' awesomeness, it just is. Then, the same things always happen. Guys think that they have a shot at nailing them. They take various approaches, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Here are some of the “How To Fail With Some Hot Chick You Know From An Online Group” (yeah, abbreviations and snappy lines aren't my thing...) techniques.
The White Knight
You want to know what The White Knight's moto is? “If you protect the camwhore, you will get to nail the camwhore.” Although in this example there isn't a 'camwhore' per se, just some sort of random hot girl who is sharing a virtual space, the theory is the same. While other members of whatever online community inundate the Hot Girl with love notes, sexual suggestions and general flirtations, the White Knight will defend her honour. Why? Because there is no better way to get on a girls good side and into her pants than suck up to her like her potential new BFF!
The Dick
You know how back at school, there was always one guy who was a proper dick? He was probably either the kid from the richest family in town, related to a minor celeb or something like that. He may even have just been a stand out at something and known it. Well, either way, he was good and he knew it. That made him act the dick. Well, the same goes in geeky circles to. You do get some right proper dicks. And in terms of trying to nail the random Hot Girl who happened to stroll into the same online community, The Dick will use all his dicky moves to try to get in there – showing off, putting others down, coercion - you name it. That is why The Dick is called a dick. He is a dick.
The Bust Up
Why is it that no matter how many generations pass, the same old story always plays out – two guys fall for the same girl and then proceed to wreck a friendship over it. Really, all guys should have the following tattooed onto the insides of their eyelids “Brothers before Bitches.” In the more geeky online version of the world, though, the good old 'Its either him or me' bust up usually occurs sooner rather than later when two leading guild members\channel broadcasters\forum mods\etc. both fall head over heels in love with the same Hot Girl. It will always end in some good old fashioned drama between the supposed friends, as you just cannot do drama like the internet can, with the girl eventually winding up with some guy form outside the web who is a normal, well adjusted person. C'est la vie.
In this Eternal September era of the internet, though, all sorts of folk are online. It's amazing. I've even seen women, and not ugly frumpy ones who live with 17 cats, use the interweb! And not in the 'You have to pay to see me' way either, actual real womenfolk using it for their own personal enjoyment. It's incredible and borderline life affirming. Thing is, it also often leads to disaster.
We all know that the internet is made up mainly of men. Of those which spend a serious amount of time on the internet, the kinds who belong to WoW guilds and are regulars to Justiv.tv chat rooms and the like, most of them are geeky guys. There is nothing wrong with that, frankly I'm probably classed as a geeky guy, and it is something that has major advantages. The downside is that more often than not, throw a genuinely hot girl into the mix and things start to go a little haywire. It's a bit like the excellent TV show The Big Bang Theory, except with less wit and more flame wars.
It is an unwritten law of the Internet that each and every big online streaming 'channel', every forum and every World of Warcraft guild must have at least one hot girl. It is like the changing of the seasons or Chuck Norris' awesomeness, it just is. Then, the same things always happen. Guys think that they have a shot at nailing them. They take various approaches, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Here are some of the “How To Fail With Some Hot Chick You Know From An Online Group” (yeah, abbreviations and snappy lines aren't my thing...) techniques.
The White Knight
You want to know what The White Knight's moto is? “If you protect the camwhore, you will get to nail the camwhore.” Although in this example there isn't a 'camwhore' per se, just some sort of random hot girl who is sharing a virtual space, the theory is the same. While other members of whatever online community inundate the Hot Girl with love notes, sexual suggestions and general flirtations, the White Knight will defend her honour. Why? Because there is no better way to get on a girls good side and into her pants than suck up to her like her potential new BFF!
The Dick
You know how back at school, there was always one guy who was a proper dick? He was probably either the kid from the richest family in town, related to a minor celeb or something like that. He may even have just been a stand out at something and known it. Well, either way, he was good and he knew it. That made him act the dick. Well, the same goes in geeky circles to. You do get some right proper dicks. And in terms of trying to nail the random Hot Girl who happened to stroll into the same online community, The Dick will use all his dicky moves to try to get in there – showing off, putting others down, coercion - you name it. That is why The Dick is called a dick. He is a dick.
The Bust Up
Why is it that no matter how many generations pass, the same old story always plays out – two guys fall for the same girl and then proceed to wreck a friendship over it. Really, all guys should have the following tattooed onto the insides of their eyelids “Brothers before Bitches.” In the more geeky online version of the world, though, the good old 'Its either him or me' bust up usually occurs sooner rather than later when two leading guild members\channel broadcasters\forum mods\etc. both fall head over heels in love with the same Hot Girl. It will always end in some good old fashioned drama between the supposed friends, as you just cannot do drama like the internet can, with the girl eventually winding up with some guy form outside the web who is a normal, well adjusted person. C'est la vie.
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.
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
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Are Video Games Art?
First things first, in the interests of fairness yes I am a bit of a geek. Moving swiftly on...
Recently I've been trying not to go out and get blind drunk quite as often as I used to. A bit of it is because the novelty of waking up with a hang over has worn off, a bit of it is financially induced and a bit of it is I tend to be far more productive when I'm not shouting battle cries such as 'Lets go to the funfair! DRUNK DODGE'EMS!'
As a result of that, I've been playing a lot more video games recently. I've always loved them since I was about 6 and broke my leg. As I was housebound all throughout a summer holiday when no doubt my parents were quite looking forward to me going out and adventuring, they bought me a Sega Mega Drive to keep me subdued. Since then, I've been hooked.
In the last few months, I've successfully completed Mass Effect 1 & 2 (well, I completed ME1 years ago but re-played it in anticipation), Assassin's Creed 2 and Kane & Lynch amongst a bevy of others. I've also bought a PlayStation 3 to play through Metal Gear Solid 4 and the impending Heavy Rain.
Playing all these story heavy, well directed and cut scene orientated games has gotten me a-thinking. Are video games a sort of art?
When most people think of trad 'art', they think of paintings, photos, books, movies and music. Video games are still considered much as they were in the 1980's – a form of entertainment and nothing more. But that was in the days of side scrolling games, chip music and cartoon superheroes like Mario and Sonic.
Of course there are video games produced even today which could never ever be considered art – no matter which way you slice it, Crank & Ratchet and Madden 10 are not on a par with The Avatar and The Hurt Locker.
However, there are a new generation of games which could easily be considered art. The latest Metal Gear Solid game with it's 90 minute cinema quality cut scenes, Heavy Rain with it's focus so much on story that it is being marketed as an Alternative Reality Game and Assassin's Creed 2 with it's hugely detailed virtual cities are all hallmarks of blockbuster movies. The character development and relationships chronicled over the Mass Effect series are the same as in any big screen sci-fi epic. The soundtracks are, if anything, even more epic than in movies.
Although not a completely canon point, David Hayter (who voices Snake in the MGS franchise) is even an accomplished script writer.
With the ever increasing cut scene direction, voice acting skill and immersive universes, should modern day video games be considered more art than entertainment?
Well – yes, frankly, they should be. Obviously art in it's purest form will always be hung in a gallery or be hailed at the Oscars, but I really believe that video games these days should be placed on a par with at least movies, books and television. Compared to 'Modern Art' I'd say video games are far superior.
The biggest test, though, will be getting the 'establishment' to accept video games as a genuine medium. I doubt in my lifetime there will be an Oscar handed out for the best video game, judged on scripting, design and cut scenes, nor a serious recognition for the music. But you have to admit – compare MGS4 with half a shark in a tank of formaldehyde or an unmade bed and you tell me which is more artistic?
Recently I've been trying not to go out and get blind drunk quite as often as I used to. A bit of it is because the novelty of waking up with a hang over has worn off, a bit of it is financially induced and a bit of it is I tend to be far more productive when I'm not shouting battle cries such as 'Lets go to the funfair! DRUNK DODGE'EMS!'
As a result of that, I've been playing a lot more video games recently. I've always loved them since I was about 6 and broke my leg. As I was housebound all throughout a summer holiday when no doubt my parents were quite looking forward to me going out and adventuring, they bought me a Sega Mega Drive to keep me subdued. Since then, I've been hooked.
In the last few months, I've successfully completed Mass Effect 1 & 2 (well, I completed ME1 years ago but re-played it in anticipation), Assassin's Creed 2 and Kane & Lynch amongst a bevy of others. I've also bought a PlayStation 3 to play through Metal Gear Solid 4 and the impending Heavy Rain.
Playing all these story heavy, well directed and cut scene orientated games has gotten me a-thinking. Are video games a sort of art?
Coming soon to an art gallery near you, this piece is titled 'Wohoo! A Gold Star!'
When most people think of trad 'art', they think of paintings, photos, books, movies and music. Video games are still considered much as they were in the 1980's – a form of entertainment and nothing more. But that was in the days of side scrolling games, chip music and cartoon superheroes like Mario and Sonic.
Of course there are video games produced even today which could never ever be considered art – no matter which way you slice it, Crank & Ratchet and Madden 10 are not on a par with The Avatar and The Hurt Locker.
However, there are a new generation of games which could easily be considered art. The latest Metal Gear Solid game with it's 90 minute cinema quality cut scenes, Heavy Rain with it's focus so much on story that it is being marketed as an Alternative Reality Game and Assassin's Creed 2 with it's hugely detailed virtual cities are all hallmarks of blockbuster movies. The character development and relationships chronicled over the Mass Effect series are the same as in any big screen sci-fi epic. The soundtracks are, if anything, even more epic than in movies.
Although not a completely canon point, David Hayter (who voices Snake in the MGS franchise) is even an accomplished script writer.
With the ever increasing cut scene direction, voice acting skill and immersive universes, should modern day video games be considered more art than entertainment?
Well – yes, frankly, they should be. Obviously art in it's purest form will always be hung in a gallery or be hailed at the Oscars, but I really believe that video games these days should be placed on a par with at least movies, books and television. Compared to 'Modern Art' I'd say video games are far superior.
The biggest test, though, will be getting the 'establishment' to accept video games as a genuine medium. I doubt in my lifetime there will be an Oscar handed out for the best video game, judged on scripting, design and cut scenes, nor a serious recognition for the music. But you have to admit – compare MGS4 with half a shark in a tank of formaldehyde or an unmade bed and you tell me which is more artistic?
Wednesday, 3 February 2010
Man Math and How It Made My Bank Manager Cry
Sorry about going AWOL. I promise it is nothing personal. Just I very rarely have the chance to throw myself into projects with very few distractions. I'm afraid that even this for that period was deemed one. However, I'm now back and I think the up coming plans could be quite exciting.
Oh, and before we start, if you want to see my breakdown of the Super Bowl and what you should be betting on, click here.
Anyway, to business?
To quote perhaps the greatest human being to ever live, Stan Smith from American Dad, I've been doing a lot of man math recently. All of us red blooded, hairy chested and slack jawed men love doing man math. We all know what it is. But for any womenfolk out there, let me explain the principals of man math.
Man math is where you use absolutely ridiculous justifications to talk yourself into buying shit you do not need and maybe only marginally want. You see a shirt you sort of want on a whim but can't quite afford? Man math says buy it and tell yourself that you wont get blind stinking drunk on Friday. Say you browse through the DVD box set bin at some high street store and see a few series of some show you've caught once or twice and sort of found interesting? You tell yourself you will save money at the weekend staying in to watch it and so buy it. You sort of see where I'm going with this – rather than save up and buy stuff, you use justifications you will never see through to just buy it as you're there.
I did some excellent man math today. I really want a PS3 because I am probably the only person I know not to have played MGS4 and desperately want Heavy Rain when it comes out at the end of this month. So, off to town I went. That was probably my first mistake.
Well, technically I suppose I went to two towns. The first I went to I thought had both a GameStation and a Game, plus is easier to park up and the like. Except when I meandered through the shopping centre, the GameStation is closed. Awesome, where the hell was I meant to get a pre-owned PS3 now? Anyway, I pushed it into the back as my mind as I left the house telling myself over and over and over and over once more that I was just checking out prices, not purchasing. Because of that it didn't matter if I couldn't scope out prices. So I just picked up Mass Effect 2 for the Xbox 360 and went to head home defeated.
That lasted for about seven seconds. I of course headed straight to another shopping centre.
Anyway, you can see where this is going. My quick “lets pop out and maybe get an Xbox 360 game, scope out places to get a decent cheap second hand PS3” quickly turned into “lets spend £245 on some rainy Tuesday afternoon.”
The man math behind it? Well, I have a few more invoices coming in over the next few days and I'll be staying in this weekend to play with my new toy. I will keep telling myself this over and over and over until I believe it, then be found drunk as a skunk at some bar on Friday. Good times!
Oh, and before we start, if you want to see my breakdown of the Super Bowl and what you should be betting on, click here.
Anyway, to business?
To quote perhaps the greatest human being to ever live, Stan Smith from American Dad, I've been doing a lot of man math recently. All of us red blooded, hairy chested and slack jawed men love doing man math. We all know what it is. But for any womenfolk out there, let me explain the principals of man math.
The inventor of Man Math, also a man who should be captioned with the world 'derp'
Man math is where you use absolutely ridiculous justifications to talk yourself into buying shit you do not need and maybe only marginally want. You see a shirt you sort of want on a whim but can't quite afford? Man math says buy it and tell yourself that you wont get blind stinking drunk on Friday. Say you browse through the DVD box set bin at some high street store and see a few series of some show you've caught once or twice and sort of found interesting? You tell yourself you will save money at the weekend staying in to watch it and so buy it. You sort of see where I'm going with this – rather than save up and buy stuff, you use justifications you will never see through to just buy it as you're there.
I did some excellent man math today. I really want a PS3 because I am probably the only person I know not to have played MGS4 and desperately want Heavy Rain when it comes out at the end of this month. So, off to town I went. That was probably my first mistake.
Well, technically I suppose I went to two towns. The first I went to I thought had both a GameStation and a Game, plus is easier to park up and the like. Except when I meandered through the shopping centre, the GameStation is closed. Awesome, where the hell was I meant to get a pre-owned PS3 now? Anyway, I pushed it into the back as my mind as I left the house telling myself over and over and over and over once more that I was just checking out prices, not purchasing. Because of that it didn't matter if I couldn't scope out prices. So I just picked up Mass Effect 2 for the Xbox 360 and went to head home defeated.
That lasted for about seven seconds. I of course headed straight to another shopping centre.
Anyway, you can see where this is going. My quick “lets pop out and maybe get an Xbox 360 game, scope out places to get a decent cheap second hand PS3” quickly turned into “lets spend £245 on some rainy Tuesday afternoon.”
The man math behind it? Well, I have a few more invoices coming in over the next few days and I'll be staying in this weekend to play with my new toy. I will keep telling myself this over and over and over until I believe it, then be found drunk as a skunk at some bar on Friday. Good times!
Thursday, 7 January 2010
The Great Big Facebook Conspiracy
I was having a ponderance the other day. It happens from time to time. I have a lot of time to think, and get an awful lot of it done while staring at the white pages in front on me that I really should be filling with text. It is both an awful burden and an absolutely wonderful curse and I love it, as a little bit of mental masturbation is always a lark.
What is more fun that thinking is completely off the wall thinking as, I will admit, that I do have a soft spot especially for conspiracy theories. Now, I'm not exactly the sort of person who sits at home refusing to use electricity because 'the man' is onto me, all the while eating cold tins of beans and wearing a tin foil hat. I'm not quite that bat shit crazy yet. In my autumn years I hope to achieve it, but alas for the moment I appear to be borderline sort of normal. Still, it's fun and pretty much just human nature to look into things – Do aliens exist? Did we really get to the moon? Was the Titanic an insurance job? Just how is Jared Allen's hair cool? That sort of stuff.
Last night, when I was once more failing to get to sleep, I did some thinking. In it, I came to the conclusion that Facebook is a massive conspiracy. Now, I know how mad that that sounds, but hear me out. I promise I'm not a nutcase who is currently sat in the bushes outside your window touching himself.
Just imagine for a minute, if you will, that you are some big powerful government man. There, don't you feel important? Looking over all the peons with a sense of unjustified superiority like that, whoa boy you sure are a big shot. But, I hear you say, what are all those zillions of people out there up to? What are they doing? Thinking? Interested in?
Also, just the other day, you happened to be having a nice informal, dress down top secret meeting with some of your bestest buddies in Industry. They were complaining that it was getting harder and harder to control the surfs, what with the advent of movable type. It was much harder to predict their patterns and advertising had become awfully broad spectrum (as anyone who has seen L'Oreal advertised on Kerrang! TV while then flicking to MTV2 only to see fish fingers being hawked will attest to).
If only there was a way to not only find out what people were up to but to also track what they were interested in. If only...
Now for the conspiracy bit – I really do have a hard time believing that something like Facebook sprung up all by itself. I mean, no doubt that the guy\guys (depending on which legal POV you take) who dreamt it up in Harvard did have nout but the best intentions for it at the time, but I find it a struggle to believe that in 4 years a business can go from helping a few Uni students keep in contact to gaining a massive, multi-billion dollar user base. Think of all the personal information that is kept on Facebook – they can word filter what you are thinking, track what you click on, see where and how you update and so on and so forth. And I mean sure, although it is not done obviously, Facebook does sell data. If I had a wager on it, I'd bet that that data was not just stuff to advertisers to see if you would prefer a red or green car...
But anyway, as I've shown already if I put money on it I'm usually wrong.
Assuming I haven't been hauled away in the dead of night, see you Sunday!
What is more fun that thinking is completely off the wall thinking as, I will admit, that I do have a soft spot especially for conspiracy theories. Now, I'm not exactly the sort of person who sits at home refusing to use electricity because 'the man' is onto me, all the while eating cold tins of beans and wearing a tin foil hat. I'm not quite that bat shit crazy yet. In my autumn years I hope to achieve it, but alas for the moment I appear to be borderline sort of normal. Still, it's fun and pretty much just human nature to look into things – Do aliens exist? Did we really get to the moon? Was the Titanic an insurance job? Just how is Jared Allen's hair cool? That sort of stuff.
Last night, when I was once more failing to get to sleep, I did some thinking. In it, I came to the conclusion that Facebook is a massive conspiracy. Now, I know how mad that that sounds, but hear me out. I promise I'm not a nutcase who is currently sat in the bushes outside your window touching himself.
Just imagine for a minute, if you will, that you are some big powerful government man. There, don't you feel important? Looking over all the peons with a sense of unjustified superiority like that, whoa boy you sure are a big shot. But, I hear you say, what are all those zillions of people out there up to? What are they doing? Thinking? Interested in?
Also, just the other day, you happened to be having a nice informal, dress down top secret meeting with some of your bestest buddies in Industry. They were complaining that it was getting harder and harder to control the surfs, what with the advent of movable type. It was much harder to predict their patterns and advertising had become awfully broad spectrum (as anyone who has seen L'Oreal advertised on Kerrang! TV while then flicking to MTV2 only to see fish fingers being hawked will attest to).
If only there was a way to not only find out what people were up to but to also track what they were interested in. If only...
Now for the conspiracy bit – I really do have a hard time believing that something like Facebook sprung up all by itself. I mean, no doubt that the guy\guys (depending on which legal POV you take) who dreamt it up in Harvard did have nout but the best intentions for it at the time, but I find it a struggle to believe that in 4 years a business can go from helping a few Uni students keep in contact to gaining a massive, multi-billion dollar user base. Think of all the personal information that is kept on Facebook – they can word filter what you are thinking, track what you click on, see where and how you update and so on and so forth. And I mean sure, although it is not done obviously, Facebook does sell data. If I had a wager on it, I'd bet that that data was not just stuff to advertisers to see if you would prefer a red or green car...
But anyway, as I've shown already if I put money on it I'm usually wrong.
Assuming I haven't been hauled away in the dead of night, see you Sunday!
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
11 Predictions for 2010
Holy freaking meatballs, it's another year. I swear it only turned 2009 a few weeks back. Where did that year go? Where did any year go? Oh my god my birthday is in a few weeks and I'll be...
Anyway, hello. Welcome back. Did you have a good Christmas? Get lots of nice presents? Hope you didn't get a crappy jumper. That would suck. Hey, you know what would be fun? Seeing as how this is a new year and everything, let's have some predictions.
I hereby present my Top 11 Predictions For 2010
Anyway, hello. Welcome back. Did you have a good Christmas? Get lots of nice presents? Hope you didn't get a crappy jumper. That would suck. Hey, you know what would be fun? Seeing as how this is a new year and everything, let's have some predictions.
I hereby present my Top 11 Predictions For 2010
- Somehow Labour will find a way to remain in power. Those guys are literally like vampires. They just will not die while sucking everything you have in the meantime. I think the only way to remove Gordon Brown and is coven from this earth is to go at him with a garlic laced spike.
- Apple will help Sony in their battle against Microsoft. Lets face it, the video games and general recreational electronics market at the moment is massive. Apple can focus all they want on iPods and iPhones and iDontcares, but you know they want to overtake Microsoft as the number one computer company out there. Along the same lines, Sony will want their PlayStaion brand to beat out the Xbox one. What with a common enemy, those two have to have some middle ground.
- Terry Wogan and Bruce Forsyth will fight to the death for the title of 'Britain's Grandad'. In one corner you have the softly spoken tubby fellow who will give you a Worther's Original, while in the other you have the cheeky wiry one who will tell you what your young mind conceives are a rude joke. Who will come out on top?
- Formula One will allow drivers to listen to BBC Radio 2 while racing to give Schumacher a middle aged pastime.
- Brett Favre will retire, un-retire, retire and then sign to pitch for the NY Yankees because his career just isn't complete without a World Series ring.
- On another NFL theme, Peyton Manning will continue his transition into the role of 'comedic straight man.' Honestly, that guy can say the most serious sentence in the world and it's funny. Although that might just be his nose. Related – Owen Wilson will sue Peyton Manning over copyright infringement on comedic noses.
- England will scrape through the group stages of the World Cup, win in the second round and then just as we as a country get some self belief, get knocked out on penalties in the quarter finals.
- I'll get turned down for a US Green Card for the third straight year. All I want is to be able to stay in the States for more than 6 months at a time. Is that so much to ask?
- Wayne Rooney, in the process of trying to teach his baby son new words, will have his vocabulary increase exponentially.
- I will finally give in and fly all the way to Canada just to see a Colin Mochrie stand up gig. Related - Colin Mochrie will take out a restraining order against me.
- Finally, I'm willing to bet nothing changes. Taxes will be too high, pay too low, we will all be scared about the nasty man in the shadows who wants to kill us to death and we will hide away from all this in a nice, warm cosy materialistic home pouring controlled poison down our necks. Because that is human nature.
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?
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Defending The Diva
In a very backwards way, I think I'm about to try to start defending diva-ish behaviour. I know, I know...
Some diva behaviour is a tad extreme. Assuming that The Sun tells absolutely no lies whatsoever in any way, shape or form then when Mariah Carey went on This Morning the other day, it was bedlam. Amongst the highlights of her appearance were the fact that she had an entourage larger than the crew that made the show and had someone walk backwards in front of her with their arms outstretched to catch her in case she tripped. You really do have to be a special blend of bat shit crazy to achieve that.
Oh, and while we are on the subject of Mariah, I heard a rumour about her. As it was a rumour that I can't even remember the source, of must be true as well. This rumour goes that during the inauguration of President Barak Obama, Carey through a huge strop when she found out that she would only be sat with the other VIPs at the event. Turns out, when she was invited as a special guest she thought that she would be sat up on the stage practically holding Obama's hand as he made his pledge.
Anyway, that sort of diva behaviour is simply ridiculous. No matter how big, famous and important you are there is never a justification to have the air temperature in a venue altered to be exactly what you demand it to be. There is no clause that says you cannot go on stage unless all of the lime Wine Gum's are taken out back and shot. Basically, there is no excuse for demanding a service before you perform which is either the metaphorical or literal interpenetration of getting the person in charge to clean your behind for you.
However, with all the over the top tomfoolery of stereotypical requests like a bowl of M'n'Ms with all the blue ones removed or a hooker without an STD aside, there is some merit in wanting this stuff.
At the end of the day, the sole purpose of anyone working in a creative performance job, where the product you put out there is purely there for the enjoyment of the audience, is to stick out a piece of work that the paying punters enjoy. And to do that, you have to have a happy little performer who is pleased as punch to be there. Having a grouchy little bee-hatch is just not good for business.
I will admit that for the last few days, I have not written a single solitary word. This has annoyed a few editors no end, but I don't care. I just haven't been in the mood. I won't bore you with the details, but I've spent most of the last few days in the foetal position feeling a little sorry for myself. Today I woke up and the sun seemed a little brighter. So, I'm writing.
I suppose the point of all of this rambling goes thusly – Although a lot of the demands that some celebrities and certain 'divas' put in are highly unnecessary, there is a point to it all. It is whatever they need to perform at their best. Like it or lump it, I'm sure anyone who is parting with their hard earned cash to see them would rather know that the performer had all of their needs pampered and would put on a belting show than not be fed their duck egg omelette and have the right hump.
That is my case, your honour. It may not be the best, and is definitely very one sided, but it's all I got. The defence rests.
Some diva behaviour is a tad extreme. Assuming that The Sun tells absolutely no lies whatsoever in any way, shape or form then when Mariah Carey went on This Morning the other day, it was bedlam. Amongst the highlights of her appearance were the fact that she had an entourage larger than the crew that made the show and had someone walk backwards in front of her with their arms outstretched to catch her in case she tripped. You really do have to be a special blend of bat shit crazy to achieve that.
Oh, and while we are on the subject of Mariah, I heard a rumour about her. As it was a rumour that I can't even remember the source, of must be true as well. This rumour goes that during the inauguration of President Barak Obama, Carey through a huge strop when she found out that she would only be sat with the other VIPs at the event. Turns out, when she was invited as a special guest she thought that she would be sat up on the stage practically holding Obama's hand as he made his pledge.
Anyway, that sort of diva behaviour is simply ridiculous. No matter how big, famous and important you are there is never a justification to have the air temperature in a venue altered to be exactly what you demand it to be. There is no clause that says you cannot go on stage unless all of the lime Wine Gum's are taken out back and shot. Basically, there is no excuse for demanding a service before you perform which is either the metaphorical or literal interpenetration of getting the person in charge to clean your behind for you.
However, with all the over the top tomfoolery of stereotypical requests like a bowl of M'n'Ms with all the blue ones removed or a hooker without an STD aside, there is some merit in wanting this stuff.
At the end of the day, the sole purpose of anyone working in a creative performance job, where the product you put out there is purely there for the enjoyment of the audience, is to stick out a piece of work that the paying punters enjoy. And to do that, you have to have a happy little performer who is pleased as punch to be there. Having a grouchy little bee-hatch is just not good for business.
I will admit that for the last few days, I have not written a single solitary word. This has annoyed a few editors no end, but I don't care. I just haven't been in the mood. I won't bore you with the details, but I've spent most of the last few days in the foetal position feeling a little sorry for myself. Today I woke up and the sun seemed a little brighter. So, I'm writing.
I suppose the point of all of this rambling goes thusly – Although a lot of the demands that some celebrities and certain 'divas' put in are highly unnecessary, there is a point to it all. It is whatever they need to perform at their best. Like it or lump it, I'm sure anyone who is parting with their hard earned cash to see them would rather know that the performer had all of their needs pampered and would put on a belting show than not be fed their duck egg omelette and have the right hump.
That is my case, your honour. It may not be the best, and is definitely very one sided, but it's all I got. The defence rests.
Thursday, 15 October 2009
The 'Why South Park Is Good For The World' Theory
Another theory today, children. This time as to why South Park is actually good for both comedy, and the world -
I want to worship Eric Cartman as some sort of deity. At the very least, I want to join any form of cult that he may be the leader of and am interested in receiving a newsletter written by him.
I came to this staggering conclusion after watching more South Park than ever. I remember when that show came out and it sort of revolutionised TV a bit. Before South Park, cartoons weren't for grown ups. I mean, The Simpsons has been around for 20 years now and people said that it was a cartoon for grown ups but it isn't really. It is just a sitcom that happens to be a cartoon. When South Park came out, it was aimed at the sorts of grown ups that didn't make sure they were in bed by 10pm to watch the news with a glass of warm milk like The Simpsons. It was aimed towards the sorts of adults who just got back from the bar drunk off their ass.
And it had a cult following amongst the cool kids. When South Park came out I was about 10. I became aware of it a few years later, when the cool kids in my class had borrowed the VHS tapes from their older brothers or caught it because they were (*gasp!*) allowed a TV in their room. Since then the series has continued to go from strength to strength, and so has my love for it.
The proof that South Park can be a cartoon aimed strictly at adults (well, college students and grown ups with cool jobs like graphic designers, web designers, musicians, etc.) also opened the door for people like Seth McFarlane and his troup of shows (American Dad, Family Guy, The Cleveland Show), Seth Green (Robot Chicken) and other stuff. Adult Swim would not exist without South Park.
But also, I just love the South Park philosophy on humour.
“Either everything is okay, or nothing is”
It was best summed up in the episodes where they wanted to show an image of Muhammad after the Danish cartoon which caused so much uproar. They argued that either then should be no boundries as to what they could show, or they shouldn't bother. The image was, of course, censored and of course the show carried on, but I like their theory on it. If Muslim's can demand an episode be pulled as they find it is offensive, then anyone who finds an episode offensive can have it pulled.
Same with the episode they wrote bashing Scientology. Even though it cost them Isaac Hayes as the voice of Chef, they made the completely valid point that Hayes never complained when they ripped on other religions. It is a mathematical impossibility to count the amount of anti-jew jokes that Cartman spews forth with. And Hayes had no issue with that. But when it is his beliefs, all of a sudden it isn't okay? So they let him walk.
Because of this, I worship South Park. Although, I'm wondering if I really do love the show or if I'm only writing this because I've spent all day with a South Park JTV stream on while I did other work. No, I'm sure it's my own thoughts. They must be.
*twitch*
Yes, they must be....
I want to worship Eric Cartman as some sort of deity. At the very least, I want to join any form of cult that he may be the leader of and am interested in receiving a newsletter written by him.
I came to this staggering conclusion after watching more South Park than ever. I remember when that show came out and it sort of revolutionised TV a bit. Before South Park, cartoons weren't for grown ups. I mean, The Simpsons has been around for 20 years now and people said that it was a cartoon for grown ups but it isn't really. It is just a sitcom that happens to be a cartoon. When South Park came out, it was aimed at the sorts of grown ups that didn't make sure they were in bed by 10pm to watch the news with a glass of warm milk like The Simpsons. It was aimed towards the sorts of adults who just got back from the bar drunk off their ass.
And it had a cult following amongst the cool kids. When South Park came out I was about 10. I became aware of it a few years later, when the cool kids in my class had borrowed the VHS tapes from their older brothers or caught it because they were (*gasp!*) allowed a TV in their room. Since then the series has continued to go from strength to strength, and so has my love for it.
The proof that South Park can be a cartoon aimed strictly at adults (well, college students and grown ups with cool jobs like graphic designers, web designers, musicians, etc.) also opened the door for people like Seth McFarlane and his troup of shows (American Dad, Family Guy, The Cleveland Show), Seth Green (Robot Chicken) and other stuff. Adult Swim would not exist without South Park.
But also, I just love the South Park philosophy on humour.
“Either everything is okay, or nothing is”
It was best summed up in the episodes where they wanted to show an image of Muhammad after the Danish cartoon which caused so much uproar. They argued that either then should be no boundries as to what they could show, or they shouldn't bother. The image was, of course, censored and of course the show carried on, but I like their theory on it. If Muslim's can demand an episode be pulled as they find it is offensive, then anyone who finds an episode offensive can have it pulled.
Same with the episode they wrote bashing Scientology. Even though it cost them Isaac Hayes as the voice of Chef, they made the completely valid point that Hayes never complained when they ripped on other religions. It is a mathematical impossibility to count the amount of anti-jew jokes that Cartman spews forth with. And Hayes had no issue with that. But when it is his beliefs, all of a sudden it isn't okay? So they let him walk.
Because of this, I worship South Park. Although, I'm wondering if I really do love the show or if I'm only writing this because I've spent all day with a South Park JTV stream on while I did other work. No, I'm sure it's my own thoughts. They must be.
*twitch*
Yes, they must be....
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
The Motorway Schoolroom Regression Theory
I have a theory. I have countless theories, and most of them are widely discredited before they so much as pass out of my mouth. However, I think this one is a winner. I call it the Motorway Schoolroom Regression Theory. See that, I know big words. Anyway, my theory goes like this...
I'm a bit posh, so there were only ever 3 rows of chairs in the classrooms I was in. Sometimes there were even less, and in one of my A level classes there were only 3 people. Anyway, I digress already. Lets assume that the average classroom has just 3 rows of chairs. Motorways also mostly only have 3 lanes, and I think that the lane people drive in directly correlates with where they sat in school.
We all know the sort of people who sat in the front, middle and back rows. The front row sitters were the kids who we all either gave a hard time to in school, or at least didn't exactly protest when people gave them a hard time. They were the really smart kids, who at the time we gave a bit of stick to but, frankly, with the glory that is hindsight, we now wish we worked as hard as. The middle row people were the sorts of people who were, if you will excuse the absolutely horrendous pun, very middle of the road. Average students, average people and just average. They didn't want to sit up front as they would be bullied by the back row kids, but were too afraid of the back row to sit there. So they just sat in the middle.
And, as we all know, back row kids were the sorts who sharpened up their Stanley knives and spat a lot before going down the alley at break time to smoke and chat to their mate who was about 10 years older but had nothing better to do than park up his pimped out Corsa or Punto and hang around with school boys.
And as anyone who has ever dared venture onto a motorway knows, the three lanes all have their own type of driver. The inside lane is for slow people and lorries, the middle lane is for people who are just as slow as the inside lane but are too self concious to sit there and the fast lane is for twats in German cars with an over inflated sense of self importance.
If you can't see the correlation already, then I wonder how you can get out of bed without falling down.
The classroom front row sitters are the sorts who drive on the inside lane, either through needing to be there to work or not having the testosterone needed to venture forth. The middle of the roaders sit in the middle lane because, much like their school days, they are too self concious to sit in the inside lane. And the outside lane is full of the sorts of folk who gave up literal stabbing for a back stabbing boys club business mentality. They are probably estate agents or salesman, or another profession that cocks like to take up that doesn't require too much brain power.
There are of course exceptions, like any rule. Like the kids who sat up front, but grew up to be bankers and therefore developed an immediate twatishness about them and sit in the fast lane in German cars. And, of course, some of the Neanderthals who sat in the back row now probably drive lorries. Or National Express coaches, which terrorise the M4 and M40 and are the only buses who I've ever seen in the fast lane. Seriously, if you ever see one get the hell off the motorway and hide.
Anyway, that is my theory. It can even be translated as to where people sat on the school bus. Try it – I bet if you ask someone in the sales department at work where they sat then they will say in the front row, and they drive in the fast lane. I also bet if you ask your IT Department, they will say screw you and break into your PC, changing the desktop wallpaper to a photoshop of the boss. Because geeks rule.
See ya'll Thursday!
I'm a bit posh, so there were only ever 3 rows of chairs in the classrooms I was in. Sometimes there were even less, and in one of my A level classes there were only 3 people. Anyway, I digress already. Lets assume that the average classroom has just 3 rows of chairs. Motorways also mostly only have 3 lanes, and I think that the lane people drive in directly correlates with where they sat in school.
We all know the sort of people who sat in the front, middle and back rows. The front row sitters were the kids who we all either gave a hard time to in school, or at least didn't exactly protest when people gave them a hard time. They were the really smart kids, who at the time we gave a bit of stick to but, frankly, with the glory that is hindsight, we now wish we worked as hard as. The middle row people were the sorts of people who were, if you will excuse the absolutely horrendous pun, very middle of the road. Average students, average people and just average. They didn't want to sit up front as they would be bullied by the back row kids, but were too afraid of the back row to sit there. So they just sat in the middle.
And, as we all know, back row kids were the sorts who sharpened up their Stanley knives and spat a lot before going down the alley at break time to smoke and chat to their mate who was about 10 years older but had nothing better to do than park up his pimped out Corsa or Punto and hang around with school boys.
And as anyone who has ever dared venture onto a motorway knows, the three lanes all have their own type of driver. The inside lane is for slow people and lorries, the middle lane is for people who are just as slow as the inside lane but are too self concious to sit there and the fast lane is for twats in German cars with an over inflated sense of self importance.
If you can't see the correlation already, then I wonder how you can get out of bed without falling down.
The classroom front row sitters are the sorts who drive on the inside lane, either through needing to be there to work or not having the testosterone needed to venture forth. The middle of the roaders sit in the middle lane because, much like their school days, they are too self concious to sit in the inside lane. And the outside lane is full of the sorts of folk who gave up literal stabbing for a back stabbing boys club business mentality. They are probably estate agents or salesman, or another profession that cocks like to take up that doesn't require too much brain power.
There are of course exceptions, like any rule. Like the kids who sat up front, but grew up to be bankers and therefore developed an immediate twatishness about them and sit in the fast lane in German cars. And, of course, some of the Neanderthals who sat in the back row now probably drive lorries. Or National Express coaches, which terrorise the M4 and M40 and are the only buses who I've ever seen in the fast lane. Seriously, if you ever see one get the hell off the motorway and hide.
Anyway, that is my theory. It can even be translated as to where people sat on the school bus. Try it – I bet if you ask someone in the sales department at work where they sat then they will say in the front row, and they drive in the fast lane. I also bet if you ask your IT Department, they will say screw you and break into your PC, changing the desktop wallpaper to a photoshop of the boss. Because geeks rule.
See ya'll Thursday!
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