Stupid things people say

Uncontrollable UrgeOnce again, another passworded post. I feel like Bruce Willis’s character in friends, now I have opened up…I can’t bloody well stop. Ah well, at least making them passworded allows me to retain a small amount of dignity Razz

Over the years, we all hear things that are beyond belief stupid. They make no sense, but we accept them as normal and proper.

Where did you lose it?

This one is particular genius and normally first introduced to you by your parents. If it was “Where was the last place you remember having it?”, that could work…but let’s be honest here…if I knew where I lost it….IT WOULDN’T BE FUCKING LOST NOW WOULD IT?

Do you want a smack?

Like the answer will be yes….well, certain types of people in certain “goth’esque” situations may be inclined to say yes, but not many.

Stop crying before I give you something to cry about

This one has been used and will continue to be used for many many years to come. As a parent, I have said it..as a child it was said to me.

It. Makes. No. Sense.

If the wind changes you will look like that forever

My parents and my grandparents used to use this one if I ever pulled a funny face…oh..wait…they were right…damnit.

Are you ok?

Not normally a bad thing, but seems to be an almost tourettes based response in certain situations. A bit like the uncontrollable urge to ask a taxi driver if he has been busy, if you see someone you know in a Doctors surgery or hospital…you are guaranteed to ask them if they are ok.

It could be worse

Normally said to you after some personal tragedy has befallen you. Let’s face it, at the point that someone says this to you….it could be bloody better!

I can’t read my own hand-writing

Seriously? How do you know it’s your handwriting then?

Tell me in your own words

What? You think I have my own words…that I have spent time inventing a language of my very own. Who the hell would I speak to, and if I had, how would you know what I was saying?

If it tasted nice, it wouldn’t be doing you any good or If it didn’t hurt, it wouldn’t be doing you any good

Who comes up with this crap? Why does medication have to taste like shit, we pay enough for it these days for them to make it in a variety of flavours. And who decided on child proof screw tops? I know loads of people that actually need their child to open the bloody bottle for them. Even worse is why things that are designed to make things better, hurt like hell. Surely with the technology advances available to us these days…..

And of course the all time favourite of blokes everywhere….

If you don’t know what you have done, then there is no point telling you…..’Nuff said Grin

Feelings

So another day, another passworded post.   I was going to remove the last one, and in fact I did for a short while.   But then I thought, screw it…noone can read it so it doesn’t matter.   Then I went through some stuff last night and lo and behold…another one pops out this morning.

Feelings are strange things aren’t they?   They totally screw with your mind and often the minds of those around you that you care about.   When it’s the latter, it is often too late when you realise what you are doing.

I have been quite selfish for some time…could be that I needed to be, but when realisation hits and things are too late to deal with, I wish I had stayed how I was…ignorant and avoiding admittance.

Now I feel zoned out and in limbo.   Nothing seems to be moving and with how tired I am at the moment, I just want to sleep.   I apologise if this is a bit of a depressing post, but as I have said before, my blog my rules.

Did you ever sit down and reflect on yourself over the last few years and actually be able to spot where things should have been done differently?   I know I have and I am left with feelings of regret and an uneasiness I am not used to.

20/20 hindsight is wonderful, but completely useless I guess.

Now I have to try and look forward and to be honest, I just don’t know if I have the energy… or desire… to bother.

All I would say is, think, think long and hard about your decisions before you make them.   They almost certainly will come back and bite you in the arse at some point, and you have to be prepared to live with them and sleep at night…something I have failed to do for the last 2 nights running.

I don’t think you can make it through life without some regrets…just try everything you can to make them small and trivial.

That’s what I will aim for from now on….if possible anyway.

D.

Alternative olympics?

Sorry about the last post being password protected anyone who might be reading this.   I needed to get some shit down and it’s particularly private.   I hope you understand.   Anyway, onto the random babblings…

Whistler's Olympic RingsWhen I am tired, I am known to ramble. People seem to find this quite amusing, although they could just be humouring the big, scary looking geezer…

I rarely remember these rambles, other than the general subject matter, but yesterdays ramble has stuck with me. I did a ridiculous amount of travelling at the weekend and am exceptionally tired, just to explain in some small way the dire nature of what I am about to vomit out here.

Basically, a few of us were stood at the smoking booth at work and all of us clicked our lighters in sync. Nothing strange there, until it was pointed out to us by a new arrival at the booth…this was amusing to this person and threw me straight into ramble territory. My ramble…as best I remember it:

“Ah yes well, we are in training for a new Olympic sport, the synchronised smoke. We hope to progress to more advanced and difficult 360 degree cough with a half wheeze..it’s difficult, but only the Swiss have managed it thus far, and as their smoking ban will hit soon, they will have difficulty in adjusting to having to practise outside. We are used to practising outside, so we should be ok…” and so on, and so on.

This got me thinking though, what with the Olympics just around the corner, what other “alternative” sports could there be for the unfit and non-dedicated. Things that require little or no effort and still allow you to achieve something. Let’s face it, in the current climate of non-competitive sports days at school, where everyone wins a prize…regardless of how they suck in actual competition, why not?

We could have “Remote control wrestling” – A mixed event where husbands and wives grapple in a ring that contains a TV, the remote (obviously), a 3-2-1 sofa setup and possibly a number of potted plants and possibly a small cat/dog. We could make it hardcore, anything goes rules too like in the WWE.

What about the “Change the cat litter dash (could also be the do the dishes, take the rubbish out dash) – where the first person to get successfully out of the front door of a mock house is the winner, leaving the loser to perform the chore.

Then there could be the “Get the key in the door challenge” – This would required the contestents to be drunk and the arena would need to be pitch black and recreating 4am. Bonus points would be awarded for opening and subsequently closing the door quietly and without waking up the sleeping referee within.

Crockery Discuss anyone? Where partner A launches various pots/pans and dinnerware at partner B (normally male), whilst screaming incoherently about how partner B never replaces the loo roll once it is finished. Points wouldn’t be awarded for distance, but for accuracy and damage dealt.

The Cat High Jump – Male event only – Participants would be made to step out of the shower whilst drying themselves off and deal with a playful kitty looking at the dangly bits.   Points awarded for height and damage avoidance.

I could go on….what would be your ideas for an alternative Olympics?

Get rich quick…

05/2008: 7 cents for a nickelSo, over the years I have thought of many ways I can turn my hobbies into money..which invariably means looking for ideas that noone else has thought of on the web…what with me being the consumate geek and all.

I tried LAN parties and it ended up costing me money, I tried to get an “Adult” site off the ground, but wasn’t ‘dreamy’ enough to entice attractive, nubile young ladies to strip off (more’s the pity Cry )…just kidding, but it could have worked…honest. It would have been tasteful and arty and….heh, who am I kidding, I would have just been the lecherous photographer. And let’s face it, there are more than enough online sex toy emporiums.

I did however stumble on an idea for 2 websites and an invention…the only problem is my normal method of using procrastination to achieve…well…nothing I guess.

So I will post the ideas here, as some form of proof that they were my idea first, I will then sue anybody that successfully starts one of these, therefore making all of the money that such enterprises could make, with none of that actual effort stuff. Genius eh? I thought so…

Andy Winters: Ok, so there could be some copyright type issues, but think Anne Summers, but targeted at men…. Ok, not the greatest idea..moving swiftly on

Youungratefulwench.com: This one really could work. You know how (for most blokes anyway) presents we buy for the ladies in our lives are invariably returned for store credit? Well, this website would offer boxed, framed, gilt edged reciepts, that the missus can type a number into the website and be re-imbursed, via paypal the value of the reciept. They can then use this money to buy something Gucci from ebay, or at least the knock-off Guccci, Rolox or parda versions. Of course, the re-imbursement web address would be something like iloveyousnuffikins.com or something else equally squeamish and vomit inducing. The only downside that I can see is that cheapskate guys wouldn’t be able to buy something that looks expensive, yet wasn’t…

The invention I will keep to myself as, if this procastinating spell ever dwindles, I will need something to keep me busy (other than my lawsuits against whichever one of you stole my websites) Grin

Why am I thinking about this crap? I am bloody skint as always, and tired… Essentially I decided to perform a 39 hour, 1100 km sleep deprivation, white van man challenge. Then had 5 and a half hours sleep and headed back.

I don’t recall being this tired since…well the last time I did this challenge a couple months ago.

That’s it though, I am hanging up the White Van and changing my name to Rip Van-bloody-Winkle in an effort to get some sleep soon. Still, at least I didn’t have to get up at 6 this morning to get to work…

…oh wait

Damnit

**Side note: I apologise for how crap this post is, I am sure that other bloggers will relate. You have an idea for a post, and it feels good, it feels right, then half-way through it you realise that it is rapidly going nowhere…then you almost feel compelled to delete it, but are too tired after your sleep experiment to come up with another idea, so you post it anyway and hope noone notices.

Peace – Rip van W

It's creeping up on me..

A decorated birthday cake.

Ok ok, I admit it, the senility post was probably a little closer to home than I was previously willing to admit.

Depending on which life expectancy study you read, I am technically middle aged. When did that happen?? 35 years young thank you very much. Or as I have more recently taken to saying…21 with 14 years experience.

I am quite pleased though, as of 15:00 today, my total of real “Happy Birthday” messages had gone beyond the automatic ones I recieved from every forum I subscribe to. So there is still a part of me that isn’t completely geeked out.

Thanks everyone by the way Grin

I got a voicemail from my daughter Ellen last night and will hopefully talk to her and Ethan tonight, I got a text message from Zak and Brandon this morning and will be talking to them tonight too.   I have had facebook messages, text messages and even actual cards.   It’s almost like it is my birthday or something.

Due to my latest “White Van Man” adventure to the UK taking place tomorrow night, I won’t be getting wrecked tonight, although I am certain of at least 1 or maybe 2….litres of the German Ambrosial brews they serve around here.

That’s right ladies and gentleman, in celebration of my rapid march towards middle age, I decided to take a white van full of furniture back to blighty when I could have been out getting wrecked. I will get somewhere in the region of 6 hours sleep between Friday and Sunday and will drive around 2200km.

I am an idiot.

A generous idiot…but an idiot nonetheless.

What is it though with the “Birthday Boy/Girl” having to be the one to supply goodies in the office?…surely it should be the other way around…it cost me..no wait, it would have cost me loads of cash…had I bothered to do it.   Not that I am a skinflint or anything, but seriously, shouldn’t everyone buy me stuff??

Ah well, at least noone got me a cake with candles on, I don’t think I would have been able to handle it being brought in with an honour guard of firefighters, surrounded by a heat shield and requiring a veritable pack of big bad wolves to blow the damn things out…

Grin

Claim to fame?

Johnny Grant Star

Now I know that technically a claim to fame is only really valid if you have done something yourself, but I couldn’t think of another way to start this.

I suppose I do have 2 claims to fame in the truest sense of the term.   When my first long term partner and I got married, the run up and the wedding itself was fimed and broadcast by Sky for their Bride of the Day program.   We had to be interviewed and were filmed at home performing mundane activities that we shared together etc, all the normal contrite crapola associated with a couple in love.   We also had to play football together and “have fun” like two kids or something….totally false, but hey…it meant a free professional wedding video….and that’s valuable cashola that could go behind the bar at the wedding reception Grin

The 2nd time I got on the tele, was at Anfield during a Liverpool match.   We were sat directly behind the goal when Michael Owen struck the tamest shot in the history of football towards goal and I…noone else you understand….was caught on camera breathing in HARD in an effort to get the ball to get into the net.   I was particularly noticeable due to the fact that I had forgotten my jacket, it was 5 degrees and pissing it down…so I had to buy a rather expensive….and 2 sizes too small….jumper from the LFC shop.   I seem to recall looking like an inverted version of “larger” ladies that insist on wearing skin tight leggings at any given opportunity….oh god, I just threw up a little in my mouth.

That all said, I have been fortunate to meet some famous people in my time.   When I was a kid, Justin Fashanu had just been signed as the first 1 million pound black footballer to Nottingham Forest and we were staying with my Grandparents for a while.   Now Justin got banned from training by his manager and was wandering the Meadows area of Nottingham looking for something to do, when he heard the unmistakeable sound of people playing indoor football.   He stuck his head in the door and ended up training with my Dad, Uncles and Grandad for a 5 a side tournament.   If you ever read up on Justin, it was an absolute travesty the way he was treated, especially by his own brother.   Whilst I was very young, I still remember him vividly, I was sat at the side of the Gym, wearing his gold chains, watch and rings and watching this amazing footballer having a laugh and coaching my family…it was freakin’ amazing if I am honest.   He came by every day for 2 weeks if I remember correctly and was just this amazingly upbeat person.

Thanks to my Dad organising a football week when we lived at Guetersloh, I got to meet Murdo Macleod on a trip to Borussia Dortmund.   We trained (albeit briefly) at the Borussia facilities and got walked around the whole place.   Murdo was a great guy and  was quite happy talking to a bunch of starstruck kids.   That said, I am disgusted that SP, as a Scottish man who claims to like football…has no idea who Murdo Macleod is…pah I say PAH!

Whilst on a course for work where I ended up staying in a hotel in the center of Manchester, I bumped into and ended up having drinks with Davey Boy Smith…the British Bulldog of WWE(F) fame.   I remember being completely shocked that he was there and even more shocked that he invited me for a drink with him.   I have never asked a famous person for an autograph, most of them I have seen when they are clearly having time to themself and I always feel that the last thing that they would want is people hammering them to sign stuff.   So my approach was a simple “I hope you don’t mind, I just wanted to say that I admire your work and to say hello, sorry to have bothered you”.   With that he invited me for a couple of drinks and we talked about all sorts.   A genuinely nice fella that guy, not in the slightest bit conceited about his fame.

I sold Jonah Lomus cousin (I think, could have been his brother..bloody eggchasers) a PC, this only stands out to me as his knuckle was horribly swollen and black n blue.   I found out later that he had gotten in a fight with a bouncer.   I sold Colin Jackson a fax machine, and in the process discovered that I lived about 2 minutes walk from his place.   I sold John Toshack a PC and barely spoke the whole time as I was completely awestruck.   I was the senior member of staff on duty when Rod Stewart wanted to close the bloody store down so that he could wander around….and refused Smile

I used to live down the road from Duncan Norvelle (he of “Chase me, chase me” fame.   Oh, and my mum had a McDonalds at the next table from that fat black woman who broke the garden table in Big Brother 93 or whatever.

Not bad eh?   Although I have to say that my fave claim to fame isn’t even about me.   A friend of mine (we shall call him J) is responsible for Gary Glitter being arrested.   I was the technical center manager at PC World Cardiff, and my friend was the same in the Bristol Branch.   Mr Glitter brought a PC in for some software issues and (as usual), to test software issues you basically go to the application and load something from the recent documents history…what he saw made him throw up whilst phoning the police…followed shortly after by a phonecall to me.

I am just glad that aswell as being a sick pervert, he was stupid too.

Good times

Scared much?

!!So we have already established my fear of public speaking, and it got me thinking about other things and situations that keep me rooted to the spot.  

How do you define a phobia?   Wikipedia says “A phobia (from Greek: ????Î?Î???, phobos, “fear”), is an irrational, intense, persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, or persons. The main symptom of this disorder is the excessive, unreasonable desire to avoid the feared subject.”

Now, other than public speaking, I don’t have any phobias….according to Wikipedia anyway.     Clearly, my aversion to things as large as my head that have more legs than me is completely rational.   There is nothing irrational about screeching like a 1950s woman that has just seen a mouse when one of these evil monstrosities roams the apartment..is there?

That reminds me, I need to buy a broom.   A military grade one, preferably supplied by the guy that gives Bond his gadgets…

I don’t know the official name…but I do have another irrational fear, the fear of looking like an idiot.   Quite an ironic one though, as I probably do this a lot without even realising…but that’s the key isn’t it, the not realising it.   I try to be funny but avoid being moronic, I deliberately avoid putting myself in situations where I can look foolish.   Which is funny really as a lot of my humour centers around taking the piss out of other people, therefore putting myself “in the line of fire”, so to speak.

I knew someone sometime ago that would become rooted to the spot and end up in a gibbering wreck when birds were flapping their wings anywhere near her.   Sarah used to become almost paralysed with fear whenever she was forced to look down from a height…something I very delicately and considerately dealt with by getting her to go on the biggest, baddest rollercoasters and fairground rides that I could find…oh and I made her go up to the top of the revolving telecomms tower in Berlin….See, aren’t I considerate Twisted

I personally am terrified of paralysis…a lot of people will relate to this I am sure, but the concept of being trapped inside my own body really gives me the heebies..

So what am I scared of now?   I don’t know really, my career seems to have stalled..I am 35 in a couple of days, I see my kids via webcam or talk to them by phone  and I live alone.   I should probably be scared of myself if I am honest.   I seem to hurt people close to me and push them away.   I have even done this to my family over the years (albeit mainly when I was younger…some things are best left unblogged).   All I know is that I am tired.   Not tired in a “you should be worried about my state of mind” kind of way.   More tired in a self-absorbed, drained kind of way.   There feels like some sort of malais afflicting me, who knows though, this is probably normal for someone approaching 35.   Ageing has never bothered me before though, so I can’t (with any honesty) blame that.

Maybe I will look to new horizons, maybe.

Or maybe I should just buy a sports car, get liposuction and hair implants and rock it with 18 year old nymphomaniac contortionist porn star triplets…

Fun with the Sons..

So I am still recovering from all the travel that I have done recently, but wanted to post about what a great time I had with Sarah and the kids last weekend.

I left home at 02:00 on Friday morning to catch the 02:30 bus to Hahn Airport (yep, I am a cheapskate when it comes to travel).   For some reason I can’t sleep on the bus, neither can I sleep in the airport or on the plane.   Sarah meets me at Stanstead Airport at around 7am and we wend our merry way to Notts.   I fail to sleep in the car too.   Damnit mind, give me a break.

I manage to get around 3 hours or so kip when we get to Sarahs, the kids were at school so the rest was nice.   Around 15:30 we head off to pick the kids up from school.   They have no idea at all that I am visiting, so I am expecting shock and surprise…I wasn’t expecting Zak to spot me out of his classroom window.   The first thing I saw was a vigourously waving hand and realising it is Zak, I turn away and try to pretend that it isn’t me…no joy however, as when he comes out of his class, he is smiling his head off and waving to me.   Brandon, however, hasn’t noticed me and Sarah quickly instructs Zak not to say anything.   Brandon is totally distracted and doesn’t spot me at all.   To the point where Sarah tells him to look up, which causes him to look directly up into the sky….

Still he eventually sees me and I am mobbed by both kids Grin

We go on a run to Tesco…can I just add decent supermarkets to the list of the few things I miss about the UK?   I can?….thanks Smile   I get the kids a magazine, the choice of which is based entirely on the free toy on the front.   You gotta love that about kids, up to a certain age, brand and quality has nothing to do with the entertainment that can be garnered by a toy.   I also don’t recall the magazines being read at all…but *meh*.

That night, Kenny comes over to fit Sarahs living room carpet, but looks more knackered than I do and decides to leave it until Monday.   I thank Jesus and all his Apostles, as I would have had to help move stuff around and frankly I had less energy than a sloth with MS.

Saturday morning we get up and head over to see my folks, I discover that my mum is now officially old….she tells Sarah that she will get in some “Special Ham” for the visit.   I mean, when sandwich meat becomes special for visits, you are only 1 step away from the special tea china and then it is game over…..   I discover that I own at lawn darts…though only when I am using a broken dart for some reason.   Oh, and whatever team Zak is on…wins.   “Special Ham” sandwiches are consumed and we head back to Sarahs where I try and eat an entire chocolate cheescake unsuccessfully after taking a trip to Big W to buy the kids a toy each.

Sunday morning, Sarah is late for a rounders tournament because I didn’t wake her up.   So we head over, she plays 1 game and we leave.   The kids are spending loads of time on the trampoline that Sarahs mum bought for them and I eventually get roped into getting on there.

After being impressed that it didn’t collapse under my weight, me and the kids were messing around play fighting and knocking each other over….it is at this point that Sarah decides to get Brandons toy (a giant water pistol) and start soaking us whilst we are all trapped on the trampoline.   The camera didn’t want to work, so I have no photographic evidence of my tomfoolery, but I haven’t laughed that much in a loong time.

I do some homework with the kids, and I can honestly say that the British schooling system for their age group is superb.   They have come on in leaps and bounds and are spelling, reading and counting to a really good level now.   I am very very proud of them, and the way that Sarah encourages them is fantastic.   It is an absolute joy to see how much they both love their homework and want to progress more and more.

Later on that day, Sarah drives me back to the airport.   Bren turns up to look after the kids, and I am glad he did as he was able to distract them (and to some extent me aswell) and we didn’t have the horrible crying and sobbing that typifies this kind of goodbye.

To finish off, my cheapness comes back to bite me when Ryanair are announcing delays to practically every flight from Stanstead…they don’t announce them though, until I am at the gate waiting to board….damnit

I eventually arrive home at 02:30 on Monday morning and have to be up 4 hours later for work.

I am still knackered now…but you know what?

Totally worth it

Grin

Helping Anglo-American Relationships

FinaleHappy 4th of July to all of our friends across the pond.   Happy 4th of July to all of our friends across the pond who now live across the pond…with us..umm.

To the non-American amongst you, Happy Friday.

Every time this date comes around and the good wishes start flying, I honestly keep getting the Independence Day movie stuck in my head.   Now I am fairly certain that this is unlikely to be required, but I will be scanning the skys for moon sized vehicles up ahead, and then wait in earnest for the US to figure out the best way to save us all.

I have to say though, it is a little strange for us Brits, certainly for the English as we don’t particularly celebrate any day as such.   The Irish have St. Patricks Day, the Welsh have St. Davids Day and we have St. Georges Day.   Unlike the Irish (and to a lesser extent, the Welsh), the English don’t celebrate St. Georges Day at all.   I am not even sure when it is, I think it is the 23rd of something, possibly May or June Oops!

That isn’t to say we aren’t patriotic, generally quite the opposite is true.   I just realised the irony of that last sentence…being as it is made by a guy that left England at a veritable sprint as soon as the first opportunity arrived.

Christ…I have absolutely no idea why I started this post.   I think the efforts of last month have removed what limited blogging ability I actually had.

I think it has something to do with envy, about how you guys are completely comfortable with celebrating how proud you are as a nation, whilst us humble English folk are slightly embarrassed about ours in general.   We don’t have redneck white trailer park trash, but we do have Chavs.   We do have trailer parks, but ours tend to be full of old people that actually want to live there.

We have taken everything that makes fast food great in America, and then removed all elements that make it good, like the speed for a start.   We gave the world football (note the word FOOT) and now suck badly at it, same with cricket and rugby.

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say “Happy 4th of July America” and I will leave you red blooded Americans with this, whilst I go an drink some freedom bagwater.   Grin

Oh, and my personal fave piece of music

Fuck Yeah!