How to impress people

Lets take a look at how exactly you DON'T impress people shall we?

Firstly, you don't impress them by ruining their day and causing them untold stress.
You don't impress your new friends OR your father when they have to clean up the mess.
You don't impress hotel staff or dentists when you stand in the middle of a hotel lobby shouting down a phone about bleeds and tearing a large chunk of hair out. The person at the front desk won't even make eye contact with me anymore.

So what's the point? This is what I do. I fuck up.

If I ever had a hope in Hell I'm reckoning that I just threw it right out the window.

Suffice to say, I can be an utter cunt sometimes

Like a mad scientist on a sugar high

Having had a seriously long day yesterday (I arrived at uni at 7:10 am - left at about 9:40 pm), upon my arrival home, I had a bath and fell straight asleep. I got 6 hours sleep which is more than I've had for a good couple of weeks.

However, as a result of my going directly from bath to bed, aside from waking up with a damp pillow and a cold head, my hair now resembles a mad scientist who's had far too much sugar. Combine that with the wind factor provided by the platform at Farnborough and I now resemble a black haired version of the Wheetos man who (might still) be on the front of the cereal boxes.

Despite my hair malfunction and the annoying commuter who tutted me this morning (not to mention the train load I upset last night on my way home), my day has been saved from being shit by one of those little innocent moments that just makes you smile. As I wandered to uni getting increasingly disgruntled, I noticed a child over the other side of the road with one of the umbrellas with the eyes on it. Aside from the fact that I want one with cats ears - I noticed his dad who was about 6'5 and built like a brick shit house - had one too - a really girly one. He was making the face on the umbrella dance above his head to amuse his kid.

It made me think of Life is Beautiful. But without the Nazi concentration camps.

It also made me accutely aware that I want one of those umbrellas.....

I knew this would happen...

I knew it. I just fucking knew it!

At 3:30 this morning I was actually ill enough that I needed to go into hospital. That doesn't happen very often, since I don't like being sick. But I looked especially bad this morning, my hair was disheveled, lank and greasy from where I tried to go in the gym last night but was too tired to shower, I'd have one in the morning I thought. And I hadn't shaved in 2 days.

The moment I realised I needed to go in, I thought 'shit, I look like crap and the nurse that takes me in is going to be really hot'. So imagine my surprise and joy when my initial check up and blood theft gets done by a guy! Brilliant - it doesnt matter if he sees me looking like a homeless person in all my worst clothes and baggy jeans that I've drawn faces on the knees of. No that doesn't matter.

But I knew it would happen, and of course it did. Not only was my Doctor lovely, she might just have been the cutest person in the whole building. And I looked like a fucking dick.

I knew it would happen.

Bastard.

Oh yes, and now I'm really stoned on all the drugs they gave me too.....

Billy Talent @ UEA - 30/10/09

I went to see Billy Talent the other night. Previously I had thought they were quite good, having seen them live I can now say that they are not 'quite good', that they are in fact, fan-fucking-tastic. To the extent that I no longer consider the CD I have to do them justice, it's just not as good.

They exploded onto the stage to a song I didn't know (I only have the 2nd of their 3 albums), but then followed it up with Devil in a Midnight Mass which of course I love, so I was happy. Having been separated from my companions early on, I headed towards the front. I pushed my way forward trying to find them, pits kept opening up all around me - I found this fairly surprising cause I've been to a few gigs, Marilyn Manson included and whilst acts like Manson had violent crowds, this just had energy. Maybe it was because it was in a university and all the crowd were young and fit, or perhaps they just played an awesome gig. What matters is that people loved it.

Just as Fallen Leaves began I spotted my friends and I headed towards them. Finally, it had been about half an hour since I'd seen them. I tried to break through the barrier of the 2 large, sweaty guys blocking me from them but to no avail. Then there was a huge surge from my right and I went down with about 4 other people. Whilst they began to get picked up I rocked forward to get up when the ginger girl behind me began to fall, I thought about it - I could dodge, get up and watch her stack it, or help. So whilst sat on my arse I grabbed her back and shoved her forward back onto her feet. My payment was her arm smashing me on the top of my head. This sent me back down against the ground where the guy next to me stacked it again and landed foot first on the right side of my head. It hurt.

When the shirtless, mustachioed stranger picked me up off the floor I could have kissed him! I didn't though - he was male, shirtless, sweaty and had a mustache.

After that it was plain sailing all the way, a particularly powerful rendition of Red Flag put the gig to rest for the evening and everyone filed out. After being dragged to the medical area and checked over (I got this neat little head injury advice card and everything), I was allowed to head back.

The high point of the gig? The fact that Rich gave me £5 for downing a pint of ice cold Snakebite and nearly stopping my heart. And the person who served it had a smiley face drawn on her cheek which I thought was pretty cool.
That and seeing Una. Too. Fucking. Cool.

Nick Griffin

Well I don't know about the rest of you, but I just finished watching the vile excuse for a human being that is Nick Griffin on Question Time. On the one hand I can't believe the BBC acknowledged his vicious little party (although I am also well aware that they will have had no choice) but on the other I am so glad that they did because from what I just saw, I believe that people can really see who, or rather what he is.

His views are not worth a damn in this age and nor should they be. I have friends who aren't of British origin and I have gay and lesbian friends and each and every one of the people he opposes are worth a billion times more than he could ever be. For me it's like watching a nature show - when I watch I always route for the zebra to get away, but this time, I'm watching and I'm willing something to come along and lunch on him. Just think how many lions his face alone could feed.

He's like a wasp (and I don't mean that in the White-Aglow-Saxon-Protestant way), he serves no purpose to humanity and should be swatted before he has the opportunity to sting.

I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him get gradually more and more irate on there, I loved seeing his hands shaking and him clapping like a wind up toy whenever someone humiliated him. It was fun. But I have a question - who the fuck would ever marry that thing? Not simply because he's a racist, bigoted, vile, slimy, disgusting excuse for a human being; but because he's one ugly son of a bitch. What's going on with his eye for one thing? Frankie Boyle is entirely right:

"he looks like a plucked owl on the fast track to management at Greggs"

Surbiton to Sandhurst

In order to get home, I take a simple train that runs between Surbiton and Farnborough - before the changes and copious walking commences.  Today was no exception.  I sat down on the train and minded my own business, I sat with the latest i-D on my lap and I continued to read it from where I had left off - an article on Tyen, a make-up artist for Dior and continued through, ending on the Gucci article.  

The guy opposite me on the right hand side of the train had been staring at me and I figured he was just having a look at what I was reading cause he was bored.  Lets face it, when we have no paper and someone else does, we do try and look at theirs.  So I ignored it.  

He got off one station ahead of me and as he stood up, he looked me in the eyes, shook his head in disgust, said "faggot", sighed heavily and got off the train.  Now I couldn't help but laugh! 

I'm not gay and nor do I have a problem with people who are, I just thought this was such a strange thing to say to someone.  I can only assume it was because of the mag I was reading, although I don't have to read anything for my Great Aunt to accuse me of being a "shirt lifter" as she calls it.  

It wasn't that he took a pop at me that got me, it was the way he did it.  There was no menace or threat to his voice.  No anger.  No real hate even.  Just the sound of bitter disappointment - it was the tone reserved by your parents when you've just failed an exam - the 'we're so disappointed in you' attack that hurts like Hell.  But here was this strange guy acting like I was a lost soul and I had completely destroyed his faith in humanity.  

I really hope I did.  

I hope he saw me trying not to piss myself laughing as the train pulled away too.  

Pay it forward

I don't know how many of you might have heard of the concept of 'pay it forward'.  It's a really interesting concept and was a surprisingly good film starring Haley Joel Osment and Kevin Spacey.  

The general idea is that you do a good deed for 3 individual people.  I'm not talking a small good deed like holding the door open for a little old woman (which you should do anyway), but something a little better than that.  You tell each of those three people about the idea and that in turn, they should do good deeds for 3 other people.  So one person does 3 people a good deed each, each of those people does a good deed for 3 others and so it spreads.  I think it's a brilliant idea and it should be employed more often.  

However, I was wondering, does it work for bad deeds too?

Some c*nt in a white van thought it would be clever to veer towards the curb yesterday while I was stood waiting to cross a road.  The large puddle that was easily avoidable was then sent all over me to the extent that the £5 note in my wallet was actually soggy.  I watched him steer the van in my direction, bastard.  So I'd consider that a bad deed or a mean deed, so does that mean I can go out and do something similar to 3 other people so they continue it?  Cause that's what I felt like doing. 

I walked the last 2.8 miles with my shoes making squelching sounds while it continued to rain on me.