After what feels like years of tinsel and plastic trees, it’s finally suitable to start the festivities. Christmas is here and for once, it’s actually snowing. Despite what every Rom Com and Dickens novel out there would have you believe; a “White Christmas” is pretty rare. In Australia its summer and Santa sweats his ass off delivering presents in 100 degree heat every year so we can count ourselves pretty lucky if the white stuff sticks around for a few more days.
The view from our front window actually resembles a Christmas card. It’s a lot like King Wenceslas looking out on the feast of Steven except instead of a feast there is a frozen dog turd and instead of deep, crisp, even snow there is an inch or two of grey slush. That said it still looks pretty cool.
Unfortunately ten minutes after you set foot in the winter wonder land the negative affects of snow become all too apparent. For a start snow is really fucking cold; until now I really didn’t realize how much I enjoy having warm feet. I lack adequate clothing for the Everest like conditions we are currently faced with and so each day I pile on 3 t shirts, 3 pairs of socks and two hoodies. I am running out of clothes. Added to this, snow makes travel of any kind near impossible. Cars skid, Trains and flights are cancelled and walking anywhere becomes a 3 hour expedition. Having failed my driving test twice recently I find walking a particularly bitter experience at the minute. I hobble along the ice muttering and swearing to myself about how fantastic a driver I am. Imagine an elderly alcoholic Jenson Button and you’ll get the idea.
Anyway enough moaning, food has been brilliant recently. The rents took me for a birthday meal the other day and it was the most satisfied I have been since I last thought about Blair from Gossip Girl. I gleefully sucked the guts out of a king prawn that was so big it could beat up a lobster. On top of that I then had a Christmas dinner with my friends. Turkey, roasties, (both potatoes and turnips) mash, yorkshire puddings, veggies, pigs in blankets, stuffing, mince pies, Yule log,chocolate, a cheese bored, and THREE types of cream. We had the lot; in fact we lacked nothing apart from clothes and that only added to the fun.
Moist man of the moment: Ray Mears for his snow survival skills (The second time he has received the prestigious award)
Foodometer: 10/10 - fucking massive Prawn
Woozilla: 1/10 I am about as attractive as the plague. It might have something to do with my wooing techniques…..
Chat up line of the day:
Jack: Do you want to play pearl harbour?
Jill: What is it?
Jack: Well I lay down and you blow the hell out of me (Thanks potty mouth)
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Saturday, 19 December 2009
A Very White Heart Lane
Being a Tottenham Hotspur fan teaches you two things.
1. Hate your neighbour
2. expect disappointment
Yesterday I visited Tottenham’s stadium for the first time. It has been something I have wanted to do since I was four but my dad hates large groups of people so it has been impractical. I had a great time but it is a shame Tottenham play their games in Tottenham. I have never felt such a constant fear that I would become a victim of knife crime. Even the police looked like they might stab you for looking at them funny.
The snow has caused huge problems getting around and getting home from London was no exception. My train was delayed for an hour which I filled about half of sitting in Kings Cross giving the national rail staff filthy looks. It was after I realized that one particularly psychotic looking member of staff was staring right back at me that I decided to kill time by other means. The I-pod came to the rescue as always and so the rest of the journey passed seamlessly to the sound of “The100 greatest movie soundtracks.”
My I-pod is defiantly in my top 5 most treasured possessions. It’s an unhealthy obsession. It’s not just the music; it’s the delusional fantasy life the I-pod allows you to live. For example; I listened to The ‘Da Vinci Code’ soundtrack on the way to the station yesterday. As I walked through the snow it actually felt like I was about to unravel some mystery about the corrupt Catholic church, and in doing so save the world. It’s not just adventure films either. It’s a fact that when you listen to Bob Marley nothing bad can happen to you and while you listen to Jamiroquai every attractive woman you see is certain to put you’re penis in their mouth.
It’s not all good though. I was on the tube listening to The Dark Knight soundtrack and everyone in my carriage instantly became a terrorist suspect. It was my job to find which one of them had explosives strapped to their chest and save the world.….. I quickly switched back to Jamiroquai.
1. Hate your neighbour
2. expect disappointment
Yesterday I visited Tottenham’s stadium for the first time. It has been something I have wanted to do since I was four but my dad hates large groups of people so it has been impractical. I had a great time but it is a shame Tottenham play their games in Tottenham. I have never felt such a constant fear that I would become a victim of knife crime. Even the police looked like they might stab you for looking at them funny.
The snow has caused huge problems getting around and getting home from London was no exception. My train was delayed for an hour which I filled about half of sitting in Kings Cross giving the national rail staff filthy looks. It was after I realized that one particularly psychotic looking member of staff was staring right back at me that I decided to kill time by other means. The I-pod came to the rescue as always and so the rest of the journey passed seamlessly to the sound of “The100 greatest movie soundtracks.”
My I-pod is defiantly in my top 5 most treasured possessions. It’s an unhealthy obsession. It’s not just the music; it’s the delusional fantasy life the I-pod allows you to live. For example; I listened to The ‘Da Vinci Code’ soundtrack on the way to the station yesterday. As I walked through the snow it actually felt like I was about to unravel some mystery about the corrupt Catholic church, and in doing so save the world. It’s not just adventure films either. It’s a fact that when you listen to Bob Marley nothing bad can happen to you and while you listen to Jamiroquai every attractive woman you see is certain to put you’re penis in their mouth.
It’s not all good though. I was on the tube listening to The Dark Knight soundtrack and everyone in my carriage instantly became a terrorist suspect. It was my job to find which one of them had explosives strapped to their chest and save the world.….. I quickly switched back to Jamiroquai.
Monday, 14 December 2009
Ruffle’s Wassles
So I’m a man. 21 years on planet earth.
I spent the first hour or so of my 22nd year necking bottle after bottle of apple and kiwi VS’s. VS’s are a cheap alternative to the already cheap VK’s and they’re the same in every way except that they glow just that bit brighter. I don’t think that luminous green is a colour that occurs all that often in nature. Fire flies, those fish that live at the bottom of the sea and that’s about it. I bet I have missed out a load more but what I’m getting at is that it isn’t the first colour I would choose to eat or drink. It is a colour that says Radioactive.
The effects of consuming large quantities of luminous green are wide ranging. One guarantee is that you will not sleep well, but you can also expect to have a green tongue and the shakes the morning after. The worst thing is they actually make you thirsty. Unless you have the wettest mouth in the world as soon as you finish one you need another. Knowing this will not change anything; as soon as you have a drink in your system there is no avoiding the magnetic draw of the Florescent VS.
I was accompanied on my ill advised attempt to drink every sugary lurid liquid in the county by my friends, Candy, Handy, Gandhi, Potty Mouth, Wigan, P Dizzle, B dawg, S dizzle, Grimsby, AK, Prince and Cam who I feel deserve a mention for putting up with my Alco-pop fuelled behaviour. I went into what I can only describe as a Sugar Frenzy. Dancing like a mentalist drinking more Frenzy juice then marching home alone in order to “Remain Dignified.” which I am informed came out as “ I waanaaaa stayyyy dignityified.”
Dignity in tatters
I am back in my home town now, which is good for two reasons. The first is that I have escaped the house taste forgot. It looked like Santa’s grotto by the end of term. For a week I was half expecting to find elves squatting in my room. The second is home cooking.
Roastometer 9/10
Moistometer 2/10 I think saw a spot or two of rain
Moist Person of the Week: The inventor of the M and S chicken fajita wrap. He or she is a genius!
If you can think of anything else luminous green from nature let me know, I am hoping to have a comprehensive list.
I spent the first hour or so of my 22nd year necking bottle after bottle of apple and kiwi VS’s. VS’s are a cheap alternative to the already cheap VK’s and they’re the same in every way except that they glow just that bit brighter. I don’t think that luminous green is a colour that occurs all that often in nature. Fire flies, those fish that live at the bottom of the sea and that’s about it. I bet I have missed out a load more but what I’m getting at is that it isn’t the first colour I would choose to eat or drink. It is a colour that says Radioactive.
The effects of consuming large quantities of luminous green are wide ranging. One guarantee is that you will not sleep well, but you can also expect to have a green tongue and the shakes the morning after. The worst thing is they actually make you thirsty. Unless you have the wettest mouth in the world as soon as you finish one you need another. Knowing this will not change anything; as soon as you have a drink in your system there is no avoiding the magnetic draw of the Florescent VS.
I was accompanied on my ill advised attempt to drink every sugary lurid liquid in the county by my friends, Candy, Handy, Gandhi, Potty Mouth, Wigan, P Dizzle, B dawg, S dizzle, Grimsby, AK, Prince and Cam who I feel deserve a mention for putting up with my Alco-pop fuelled behaviour. I went into what I can only describe as a Sugar Frenzy. Dancing like a mentalist drinking more Frenzy juice then marching home alone in order to “Remain Dignified.” which I am informed came out as “ I waanaaaa stayyyy dignityified.”
Dignity in tatters
I am back in my home town now, which is good for two reasons. The first is that I have escaped the house taste forgot. It looked like Santa’s grotto by the end of term. For a week I was half expecting to find elves squatting in my room. The second is home cooking.
Roastometer 9/10
Moistometer 2/10 I think saw a spot or two of rain
Moist Person of the Week: The inventor of the M and S chicken fajita wrap. He or she is a genius!
If you can think of anything else luminous green from nature let me know, I am hoping to have a comprehensive list.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Twelve Year olds and Father Christmas
So I had another driving test and I got Father Christmas as my examiner again.
“Hello Ed, my names Brian and I will be your examiner today.”
“Hey, we met before actually.” and I know your name isn’t Brian, its Santa you sly bastard. Been to Lap land recently?
I knew he would find some way to fail me again(the anti festive) and sure enough he did. All those glasses of milk, sherry and mince pies must have gone to his fat wrinkly head because when he gave me a major for fucking up a left reverse, I’m pretty certain he was trying to tick the box for major driving brilliance. However the stupid old alcoholic made a mistake and now he’s off to deliver presents for a month, so I recon I will have to wait a while for another shot at passing.
Thinking about it, this week has been a bit of a struggle. I don’t know if you are familiar with the board game Risk, it’s infuriating. You play for 3, maybe even 4 hours trying to take the world off your friend’s one country at a time only to roll a 1 when you charge into the middle-east. Bang! Before you know it you’re pinned down in Central America with no reinforcements. I am ashamed to say I actually lost my rag with the whole thing when Pete and Seth ruthlessly ganged up on me and butchered my little troops until I was wiped off the map completely. I stormed off swearing and declaring that I would never play again. So far I have not.
Another problem has been my youthful appearance. Unlike most people, who age conventionally, forwards from young to old, as the years go by I look younger and younger. It’s a lot like Benjamin Button except I don’t think I’m about to regress into Brad Pitt. Last year I was ID’ed for a 15; the year before I was asked to produce proof of age for a packet of soothers but neither of those humiliations came close to last night. B Dawg, Seth and I were chatting to these girls when one decided that I looked like her little brother.
“Oh yeah? How old is he?”
“12”
I don’t think woman realize how much they can crush a man simply by calling him young looking, cute or friendly. It’s like a dagger in the heart. We like to think of ourselves as James Bond or Maximus from Gladiator even if we’re not. So when you ladies call a man “baby faced” or “nice” you might as well be snapping off his penis. Unfortunately I don’t look like Maximus, I look like a mixture of Ian Hislop, Jedward and Pete Doherty and it turns out that mixture leads to looking 12. In fact I basically fell in love last night when a girl I know thought I was 22. 22 is ten years closer to looking like James Bond than anybody else is willing give me. She was really cool actually. I found out she likes The Who and so I’m putting her on the potential wife list.
Suggestion for taste bud moistening: Morgan’s Spiced Rum.
“Hello Ed, my names Brian and I will be your examiner today.”
“Hey, we met before actually.” and I know your name isn’t Brian, its Santa you sly bastard. Been to Lap land recently?
I knew he would find some way to fail me again(the anti festive) and sure enough he did. All those glasses of milk, sherry and mince pies must have gone to his fat wrinkly head because when he gave me a major for fucking up a left reverse, I’m pretty certain he was trying to tick the box for major driving brilliance. However the stupid old alcoholic made a mistake and now he’s off to deliver presents for a month, so I recon I will have to wait a while for another shot at passing.
Thinking about it, this week has been a bit of a struggle. I don’t know if you are familiar with the board game Risk, it’s infuriating. You play for 3, maybe even 4 hours trying to take the world off your friend’s one country at a time only to roll a 1 when you charge into the middle-east. Bang! Before you know it you’re pinned down in Central America with no reinforcements. I am ashamed to say I actually lost my rag with the whole thing when Pete and Seth ruthlessly ganged up on me and butchered my little troops until I was wiped off the map completely. I stormed off swearing and declaring that I would never play again. So far I have not.
Another problem has been my youthful appearance. Unlike most people, who age conventionally, forwards from young to old, as the years go by I look younger and younger. It’s a lot like Benjamin Button except I don’t think I’m about to regress into Brad Pitt. Last year I was ID’ed for a 15; the year before I was asked to produce proof of age for a packet of soothers but neither of those humiliations came close to last night. B Dawg, Seth and I were chatting to these girls when one decided that I looked like her little brother.
“Oh yeah? How old is he?”
“12”
I don’t think woman realize how much they can crush a man simply by calling him young looking, cute or friendly. It’s like a dagger in the heart. We like to think of ourselves as James Bond or Maximus from Gladiator even if we’re not. So when you ladies call a man “baby faced” or “nice” you might as well be snapping off his penis. Unfortunately I don’t look like Maximus, I look like a mixture of Ian Hislop, Jedward and Pete Doherty and it turns out that mixture leads to looking 12. In fact I basically fell in love last night when a girl I know thought I was 22. 22 is ten years closer to looking like James Bond than anybody else is willing give me. She was really cool actually. I found out she likes The Who and so I’m putting her on the potential wife list.
Suggestion for taste bud moistening: Morgan’s Spiced Rum.
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
Shower-baths, Love Bites and Fleetwood Mac
It’s been about a week since Christmas threw up in my house (thanks Lucy) and the Christmas cheer has risen to an even more unacceptable level. I think tomorrow I might put Shindler’s List on in the background just to cut the festivities down to size.
Last night got out of hand and my lecture at nine o’clock today was unpleasant to say the least. My head felt like a big bit of wood covered in grease proof paper and my mouth tasted like bonfire. After a few hours of pretending to make notes in lectures I took refuge on the sofa, where I sat watching a black and white film about world war one. It had Kirk Douglas in it and it was sweet (not least because the cowardice court marshals and executions really took the edge off the fucking Cliff Richard playing in the kitchen.) Not wanting to move from the recovery chair, I then watched Count Down and fell in love with the new Carol Vorderman. My housemates got very angry that every time she came on screen I would shout “Fucking hell she’s hot!” I think it’s the intelligence thing. It just works.
Partly because I was still hung over and partly because I needed to cool down after an hour of Carol Vorderman 2, I then indulged in what has to be the best hangover cure in the world.
The SHOWER-BATH
I invented the shower bath after a particularly brutal night on the town. It’s rather obvious what it entails but I will just clarify to make sure that you understand just how great it is. You sit in the bath tub as if you were about to run a bath but just run a shower instead. After about 6 or 7 minutes your bath should be filling nicely but you’re also having a shower. FANTASTIC. Unfortunately there is a minor complication. Once the bath gets about a half full you have to run the bath taps instead of the shower because the shower water that has collected gets cold. It is very much worth the effort though. When the bath is nice and warm again you can always go back to the shower till the bath is full but I tend to just stick to a regular bath from then on.
I warn you though; once you’re in the shower-bath there really is no going back. You’re in for the long haul. My house mates, the lovely guys that they are, tend to end mine for me. You see to stay in the shower-bath for any length of time you need to unlock the bathroom door so that you’re housemates bladders don’t end the fun prematurely. A month ago David forced me to hop out after a measly hour and half when he blew his nose and then dropped his snotty tissue into the soapy water. Today Pete prised me away by doing the same thing with a sausage roll, which wasn’t quite as bad as snot but the feeling of soggy pastry on my bum isn’t one I’m dying to relive. Generally speaking the ideal duration is three re-warmings.
But anyway, I went out last night to our union. It was a good night. I staggered round claiming it was birthday and asking people for presents. It had mixed results I got told to fuck off and a hickey.
Moist song of the day....... Go your own way by Fleetwood Mac
Last night got out of hand and my lecture at nine o’clock today was unpleasant to say the least. My head felt like a big bit of wood covered in grease proof paper and my mouth tasted like bonfire. After a few hours of pretending to make notes in lectures I took refuge on the sofa, where I sat watching a black and white film about world war one. It had Kirk Douglas in it and it was sweet (not least because the cowardice court marshals and executions really took the edge off the fucking Cliff Richard playing in the kitchen.) Not wanting to move from the recovery chair, I then watched Count Down and fell in love with the new Carol Vorderman. My housemates got very angry that every time she came on screen I would shout “Fucking hell she’s hot!” I think it’s the intelligence thing. It just works.
Partly because I was still hung over and partly because I needed to cool down after an hour of Carol Vorderman 2, I then indulged in what has to be the best hangover cure in the world.
The SHOWER-BATH
I invented the shower bath after a particularly brutal night on the town. It’s rather obvious what it entails but I will just clarify to make sure that you understand just how great it is. You sit in the bath tub as if you were about to run a bath but just run a shower instead. After about 6 or 7 minutes your bath should be filling nicely but you’re also having a shower. FANTASTIC. Unfortunately there is a minor complication. Once the bath gets about a half full you have to run the bath taps instead of the shower because the shower water that has collected gets cold. It is very much worth the effort though. When the bath is nice and warm again you can always go back to the shower till the bath is full but I tend to just stick to a regular bath from then on.
I warn you though; once you’re in the shower-bath there really is no going back. You’re in for the long haul. My house mates, the lovely guys that they are, tend to end mine for me. You see to stay in the shower-bath for any length of time you need to unlock the bathroom door so that you’re housemates bladders don’t end the fun prematurely. A month ago David forced me to hop out after a measly hour and half when he blew his nose and then dropped his snotty tissue into the soapy water. Today Pete prised me away by doing the same thing with a sausage roll, which wasn’t quite as bad as snot but the feeling of soggy pastry on my bum isn’t one I’m dying to relive. Generally speaking the ideal duration is three re-warmings.
But anyway, I went out last night to our union. It was a good night. I staggered round claiming it was birthday and asking people for presents. It had mixed results I got told to fuck off and a hickey.
Moist song of the day....... Go your own way by Fleetwood Mac
Saturday, 5 December 2009
Deadlines and fire hazards
I fear that my efforts to slow the on set of Christmas have been a huge failure. In my absence my housemates managed to make the already lurid living room even more seasonal. More tinsel, more glitter, more Slade and now I live in a giant glittering, fire hazard. Bah! Humbug.
While all this horrible festivity was going on, I was cementing a friendship. I think it's much harder for guys to make friends with each other than ladies. When two girls meet they can always find something to talk about. Every girl in the world seems to know at least 3 scandalous things about every other female out there. So when two random girls meet they ascertain who they have in common and the conversation flows. Another thing about women is that they don't actually have to like one another to spend time together. Just mention that guy from twilight, or Cheryl Cole and their off like a rocket. Sometimes females even seem to root out a woman they don't like simply to forage for dirt. On returning from one of these undercover operations, said female is armed with yet more gossip and so the cycle continues.
Before you say anything. I understand that was a bit of a generalization. Not all women gossip but I didn't mean for it to sound negative. Quite the opposite in fact. It is quite a skill to chat away happily for hours without fear of awkwardness.
With men it's a different story. We make friends through forced encounters, school, work, living together, shared hobbies, that sort of thing. You can't just meet a guy you had a laugh with one time and ask him to go for a drink. That's just gay. As a man you must stumble into friendships through mutual hobbies and toleration of each other. For example; In uni I made friends with a guy called Snow because we both hated this other guy, Dave. Our shared hobby was hating Dave and we hung out with each other because it was better than spending time with Dave. That is how men make friends. I find any other all male friend making process cripplingly awkward.
With that in mind...
I met this guy through a friend and yesterday he invited me to come and hang out. He is a really decent guy and the invite was clearly a big step in the friend making process. This would be the first time we hung out, just the two of us. Awkward, but this was clearly make or break and not going would of been a definite snub. For a woman, NO PROBLEM. chat chat chat. However, man bonding is delicate and must be nurtured. Anyway it went fine. Alcohol made it pretty sweet and now I think I have a new buddy, but making friends is much harder than it sounds.
While all this horrible festivity was going on, I was cementing a friendship. I think it's much harder for guys to make friends with each other than ladies. When two girls meet they can always find something to talk about. Every girl in the world seems to know at least 3 scandalous things about every other female out there. So when two random girls meet they ascertain who they have in common and the conversation flows. Another thing about women is that they don't actually have to like one another to spend time together. Just mention that guy from twilight, or Cheryl Cole and their off like a rocket. Sometimes females even seem to root out a woman they don't like simply to forage for dirt. On returning from one of these undercover operations, said female is armed with yet more gossip and so the cycle continues.
Before you say anything. I understand that was a bit of a generalization. Not all women gossip but I didn't mean for it to sound negative. Quite the opposite in fact. It is quite a skill to chat away happily for hours without fear of awkwardness.
With men it's a different story. We make friends through forced encounters, school, work, living together, shared hobbies, that sort of thing. You can't just meet a guy you had a laugh with one time and ask him to go for a drink. That's just gay. As a man you must stumble into friendships through mutual hobbies and toleration of each other. For example; In uni I made friends with a guy called Snow because we both hated this other guy, Dave. Our shared hobby was hating Dave and we hung out with each other because it was better than spending time with Dave. That is how men make friends. I find any other all male friend making process cripplingly awkward.
With that in mind...
I met this guy through a friend and yesterday he invited me to come and hang out. He is a really decent guy and the invite was clearly a big step in the friend making process. This would be the first time we hung out, just the two of us. Awkward, but this was clearly make or break and not going would of been a definite snub. For a woman, NO PROBLEM. chat chat chat. However, man bonding is delicate and must be nurtured. Anyway it went fine. Alcohol made it pretty sweet and now I think I have a new buddy, but making friends is much harder than it sounds.
Friday, 4 December 2009
HUMBUG
I have a big problem. It's the fourth of December and people are already expecting me to be festive. Disgusting. If it wasn't bad enough that I have had to endure Christmas adverts for the last two months, now my house, is full of tinsel, bells and plastic trees. It really is terrible. Don't get me wrong I like Christmas as much as the next guy, but its not Christmas. It's the beginning of December. I don't want to listen Slade or Cliff Richard and I don't want to have a "Christmas dinner," because it isn't bloody Christmas! if you have a Christmas dinner on the 4th of December you are just eating a roast and no amount of paper hats or shit jokes will change that.
Anyway that is enough festive cheer for now. I am currently living my life vicariously through my house mate. He has a bit crush on this girl from his martial arts club,(I know, I know, he even wants a samurai sword.) Anyway the girl he is in love with, Katie Bl Bl, seems to be keen on him and all of us are giving MEH (my housemate) our advice on the situation. This ranges from whether or not he should wear a shirt to how he should drill her into her head board.
There are diagrams.
The girls have said he should be himself. The guys have been saying he should just get her smashed. I have been insisting that MEH blew his opportunity with Bl Bl when she invited him into her room after they walked home (from the sexually charged library) one night and for some reason he declined. I just realized that last bit made me sound trans gender. Girls, guys and me in three seperate catagories. Just to clear this up, I'm not trans-gender. Anyway I hope it goes well at the martial arts social. I feel like one of those dad's that push their children into sports in order to chace their own dreams.
Anyway that is enough festive cheer for now. I am currently living my life vicariously through my house mate. He has a bit crush on this girl from his martial arts club,(I know, I know, he even wants a samurai sword.) Anyway the girl he is in love with, Katie Bl Bl, seems to be keen on him and all of us are giving MEH (my housemate) our advice on the situation. This ranges from whether or not he should wear a shirt to how he should drill her into her head board.
There are diagrams.
The girls have said he should be himself. The guys have been saying he should just get her smashed. I have been insisting that MEH blew his opportunity with Bl Bl when she invited him into her room after they walked home (from the sexually charged library) one night and for some reason he declined. I just realized that last bit made me sound trans gender. Girls, guys and me in three seperate catagories. Just to clear this up, I'm not trans-gender. Anyway I hope it goes well at the martial arts social. I feel like one of those dad's that push their children into sports in order to chace their own dreams.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Late nights, libraries and long lost friends.
I have a bit of a love hate relationship with the library at the moment. I don't think I'm alone in believing the library is the most sexually charged place in any university campus. Forget about your pubs and clubs. If you want to find genuine sexual tension sit in a dead silent room with a load of young people thinking about anything other than work. Maybe I'm just a freak with a fetish but to me its like reliving Victorian society. Everyone walks around with books and exchanges pleasantries. At the beginning of university I promised myself I would have sex in the library before I left. It was a more optimistic time, before I realised that at my university a man should cherish every handshake with someone of the opposite sex.
Anyway I booked out a book last week. However the book I booked was booked out by someone else before me and remains booked out to this day. If that last bit was unclear, in short, coursework progress has been hampered severely. Not only this but I had to walk forty minutes to find this out, twice. On a more positive note Potty Mouth has forgiven me for my indiscretion and we are officially best buddies again. It turns out any wrong doing can be undone by differing degrees of public humiliation.
I have recently decided that I want to take up a cool habit or hobby. I have a radio show, but that's a bit of a 'Keen' past time. You tell people that you have a university radio show and they instantly think
"Oh your one of those. A 'chatty'"
Chatty isn't cool. The coolest people always know that to be cool, you should talk as little as possible because if you talk enough you will always say something that alienates or offends company. Truthfully I am a 'chatty', always talking myself into a canyon of embarrassment. Having accepted who I am, I must now make every effort to hide my true self. The best way to do this, apart from shutting up is to have a cool shared hobby. My friend P Dizzle is a snow boarder. Now that's a cool hobby to hide behind but balance is not my strongest point so I have to think of my own cool hobby.
I have been having a serious think about this and it has occurred to me that every past time worth having is either dangerous or illegal or both. Smoking,snowboarding, skate boarding, sky diving, rugby, taking class A drugs, being in the mafia, and starting a fight club all require more bravery and ruthlessness than I possess. Looks like I'd better shut up then.
My sleeping pattern is erratic at best at the moment. With two lectures a week, there is little to no point in getting up any time before three in the afternoon. Add to that the appeal of staying in bed when everything anywhere else is fucking freezing is massive.
Hobby of choice = naps
Moistometer 6/10 ice cold wind and rain.
Moistest man of the moment
Tony Soprano
Anyway I booked out a book last week. However the book I booked was booked out by someone else before me and remains booked out to this day. If that last bit was unclear, in short, coursework progress has been hampered severely. Not only this but I had to walk forty minutes to find this out, twice. On a more positive note Potty Mouth has forgiven me for my indiscretion and we are officially best buddies again. It turns out any wrong doing can be undone by differing degrees of public humiliation.
I have recently decided that I want to take up a cool habit or hobby. I have a radio show, but that's a bit of a 'Keen' past time. You tell people that you have a university radio show and they instantly think
"Oh your one of those. A 'chatty'"
Chatty isn't cool. The coolest people always know that to be cool, you should talk as little as possible because if you talk enough you will always say something that alienates or offends company. Truthfully I am a 'chatty', always talking myself into a canyon of embarrassment. Having accepted who I am, I must now make every effort to hide my true self. The best way to do this, apart from shutting up is to have a cool shared hobby. My friend P Dizzle is a snow boarder. Now that's a cool hobby to hide behind but balance is not my strongest point so I have to think of my own cool hobby.
I have been having a serious think about this and it has occurred to me that every past time worth having is either dangerous or illegal or both. Smoking,snowboarding, skate boarding, sky diving, rugby, taking class A drugs, being in the mafia, and starting a fight club all require more bravery and ruthlessness than I possess. Looks like I'd better shut up then.
My sleeping pattern is erratic at best at the moment. With two lectures a week, there is little to no point in getting up any time before three in the afternoon. Add to that the appeal of staying in bed when everything anywhere else is fucking freezing is massive.
Hobby of choice = naps
Moistometer 6/10 ice cold wind and rain.
Moistest man of the moment
Tony Soprano
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
thirty pieces of silver
Recently I betrayed one of my buddies. Potty Mouth and I had planned to host a radio show for the university last year but it never happened. So there I was with all these great ideas for a show and no show. Then I got the opportunity to go on the radio this year with Lucy while the mouth is on placement. Not thinking, I started radioing it up without Potty mouth, which would of been fine had she not found out, but she did and now I'm screwed. I tried to explain that I was just being thoughtless, however it seems that it is in fact worse that I didn't realize I was betraying her. Kind of like Judas absent mindedly telling the Romans where Jesus was without even asking for payment.
I should point out it wasn't simply something Potty had mentioned in passing one rainy afternoon. As soon as she said how pissed off she was and i denied that I was being a bastard i had flashbacks of Potty excitedly saying
"What shall we call our radio show?"
"When are we starting our radio show?"
"When we have our radio show I will be so happy."
I, as usual was in the wrong. So I apologised. Then came the demands.
1. Grow a moustache
2. Go out dressed as a calf
3. Punch Potty in the face (so she can report me to the police)
I refused to punch her but it looks like i will have to do the other two. I always wondered what I looked like with a bit of face fuzz anyway.
The whole episode taught me a valuable lesson. It's better to be betrayed, be cheated on, be lied to, or be stolen from. Being the bad guy is horrible. Guilt is horrible We shouldn't be locking up our criminals, rather giving them a pat on the back and telling them not to beat themselves up.
I should point out it wasn't simply something Potty had mentioned in passing one rainy afternoon. As soon as she said how pissed off she was and i denied that I was being a bastard i had flashbacks of Potty excitedly saying
"What shall we call our radio show?"
"When are we starting our radio show?"
"When we have our radio show I will be so happy."
I, as usual was in the wrong. So I apologised. Then came the demands.
1. Grow a moustache
2. Go out dressed as a calf
3. Punch Potty in the face (so she can report me to the police)
I refused to punch her but it looks like i will have to do the other two. I always wondered what I looked like with a bit of face fuzz anyway.
The whole episode taught me a valuable lesson. It's better to be betrayed, be cheated on, be lied to, or be stolen from. Being the bad guy is horrible. Guilt is horrible We shouldn't be locking up our criminals, rather giving them a pat on the back and telling them not to beat themselves up.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Pete's big idea
In an effort to force my way up the google rankings I'm going to mention the word moist alot...... alot
MOIST CHIN moist chin MoisT cHin MOIST CHIN MOIst ChIN
moist chin moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin
Hopefully now i will be the first moist chin google thinks of, but im not sure, there are alot of fucked up people out there
MOIST CHIN moist chin MoisT cHin MOIST CHIN MOIst ChIN
moist chin moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin Moist chin Moist chin
Moist chin
Moist chin
Hopefully now i will be the first moist chin google thinks of, but im not sure, there are alot of fucked up people out there
driving test, #1
Today was bad. It all started very positively, but then everything went from great to shit.
Just as a quick tit bit of information to make me feel good about myself. Remember the girl with the fat eyes from a few weeks ago? I actually acquired some balls and we had a bit of a pash. sweet huh? Who's the stalker now ay!? In fact without getting carried away, ladies seem easily wooed these days.
PERSONAL WOOZILLA FOR THE RECENT PAST : 8.5/10
Anyway lets not get carried away. Back to the bad. I FAILED my driving test
MOISTOMETER.......... 0/10 so fucking dry you wouldn't believe.
I started fucking brilliantly. The examiner, for a start, was actually Father Christmas, (I was expecting him to look like Hitler or Stalin.) I managed to steer safely away from the test center and so with Santa in toe, I set off round the town. At first I was a tad nervous but that soon passed as I completed what was without doubt, the greatest "reverse round a corner" of all time. The test continued, 20 minutes without a fuck up.
"Am I Jenson Button?" I thought to myself.
"No don't get carried away, your just a demi god."
It was around the time I was having this internal dialogue that Santa asked me to pull over so he could explain how brilliantly I was doing and I mounted the curb like it was the girl from Gray's Anatomy.
From then on everything went down hill..... badly.
I was angry with the curb, I was fucking angry with santa too, but mostly, I was pissed off with the car. How could it let me; a driving demi god, down like this? I mean it must be terribly manufactured to steer itself into curb so carelessly. ..... fucking Henry Ford
After that I cut a demoralized figure on the roads. I barley minded when the car excelorated itself and cut up the blue mini and I definatley didn't give a shit when the stupid car, mounted the curb a second and third time in the bay park outside the test center.
I am waiting for cancelations.
I WENT TO LEEDS that was sweet
9.7/10 moistness!
Moistest man of the moment
Dr DAMP who turned 21
I am currently watching the Soprano's through for the second time. God it's brilliant.
The plan now is to get fat, get racist, get a wife, kids, a mistress and start wacking people.
My house has already started a family up and were picking on the runt of the litter, Prince to get coffee, drive us around and dispose of the bodies.
Just as a quick tit bit of information to make me feel good about myself. Remember the girl with the fat eyes from a few weeks ago? I actually acquired some balls and we had a bit of a pash. sweet huh? Who's the stalker now ay!? In fact without getting carried away, ladies seem easily wooed these days.
PERSONAL WOOZILLA FOR THE RECENT PAST : 8.5/10
Anyway lets not get carried away. Back to the bad. I FAILED my driving test
MOISTOMETER.......... 0/10 so fucking dry you wouldn't believe.
I started fucking brilliantly. The examiner, for a start, was actually Father Christmas, (I was expecting him to look like Hitler or Stalin.) I managed to steer safely away from the test center and so with Santa in toe, I set off round the town. At first I was a tad nervous but that soon passed as I completed what was without doubt, the greatest "reverse round a corner" of all time. The test continued, 20 minutes without a fuck up.
"Am I Jenson Button?" I thought to myself.
"No don't get carried away, your just a demi god."
It was around the time I was having this internal dialogue that Santa asked me to pull over so he could explain how brilliantly I was doing and I mounted the curb like it was the girl from Gray's Anatomy.
From then on everything went down hill..... badly.
I was angry with the curb, I was fucking angry with santa too, but mostly, I was pissed off with the car. How could it let me; a driving demi god, down like this? I mean it must be terribly manufactured to steer itself into curb so carelessly. ..... fucking Henry Ford
After that I cut a demoralized figure on the roads. I barley minded when the car excelorated itself and cut up the blue mini and I definatley didn't give a shit when the stupid car, mounted the curb a second and third time in the bay park outside the test center.
I am waiting for cancelations.
I WENT TO LEEDS that was sweet
9.7/10 moistness!
Moistest man of the moment
Dr DAMP who turned 21
I am currently watching the Soprano's through for the second time. God it's brilliant.
The plan now is to get fat, get racist, get a wife, kids, a mistress and start wacking people.
My house has already started a family up and were picking on the runt of the litter, Prince to get coffee, drive us around and dispose of the bodies.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
A FIST FULL OF MOIST
Hello again, It’s me, your friend, Moist. Another couple of days have passed without a blog and I am beginning to feel I have let my hundreds of followers down. Today I made a fool of myself... again. The more observant of you may have noticed a theme in my numerous blogs. The trend of constant embarrassment is something I have had to live with on a day to day basis my whole life. Sometimes I don’t deserve it. Sometimes, however, I do. Today I do. It’s a simplecase of not keeping my mouth shut. We had a poster session in my class for our dissertations and I was hung over (another theme). Naturally I wasn’t taking things too seriously, and I jokingly suggested to my tutor we should have a poster competition. I also suggested that I should be the winner. Then my tutor declared to 40 of my peers, “Moist had a great idea everyone. Let’s have a poster competition.” This brown nosing didn’t go down well with at least half the class and I’m pretty unpopular right now. It then got worse, seeing my discomfort my friends all voted for me and I won my own competition and the grand prize of a text book. What a douche. Also an attractive woman told me I smelt. In fact that was the worst bit.
On the plus side, I am currently demolishing season two of True Blood with Pete which leads me to the awards segment of my blog.
MOISTEST MAN OF THE MOMENT: Bill Compton, the vampire!!
LOVE OF MY LIFE for the week Deborah Ann Woll, she is 8 sorts of delicious. There are ten sorts of delicious devised by myself and potty mouth. I will explain at a later date.
On the plus side, I am currently demolishing season two of True Blood with Pete which leads me to the awards segment of my blog.
MOISTEST MAN OF THE MOMENT: Bill Compton, the vampire!!
LOVE OF MY LIFE for the week Deborah Ann Woll, she is 8 sorts of delicious. There are ten sorts of delicious devised by myself and potty mouth. I will explain at a later date.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
HALLOWEEN
Well it’s been a while. A lot has happened, some good; some bad. One thing in particular was so scaring that I am unwilling to talk about it. What I will say is that I did not tune into match of the day. Halloween is traditionally a pagan festival celebrating being ungodly and symbolizing the start of winter. Well that’s what I took from my primary school RE lessons. For students it’s prime time to get drunk and to dress up like a twat. No change there then. This Halloween was no different except much better than any ever before. Not only did I go to a house party I also went to two night clubs. That’s right two. It’s extravagant yes but I don’t really believe in recycling and energy saving anyway so I suppose it was always something that might happen to me some day. One day I will probably buy a car like a hummer that does four miles to the gallon. I’m a Mugabe.
(Before I continue I apologise for the quality of my writing. I’m tired so I can’t really form coherent sentences or spell.)
I originally wanted to go to the party as a jelly baby. Then I decided that because I’m having such a disastrous sex life at the moment any slim chance of getting laid would be damaged by painting myself purple and wearing a nappy. So I settled on being a zombie like everyone else. At first this decision looked like being my greatest ever. I met two hot female zombies at the party and we chatted in great depth about how we became zombies. One claimed to of been hit by a train and become undead that way. Unfortunately in my drunken state I felt the need to explain that she couldn’t have been hit by a train; her injuries weren’t nearly severe enough. (She would have been splatted.) This was intended as a joke but it made me sound like some freaky gore expert who pickles dead things. Needless to say the drought continues. One big plus is that god is now on my side, as I befriended a zombie Jesus. Let’s hope Christ is a good wing man.
Drunkometer 6/10
Woozilla 4/10
Overall woozilla 8/10 PETE GOT LUCKY
Moistometer 5/10 it pissed it down at night!
NIGHT OUT RATING 9/10
Today I watched films and drank milkshakes with my good friends Lucy Pete and Potty Mouth. To be continued....
(Before I continue I apologise for the quality of my writing. I’m tired so I can’t really form coherent sentences or spell.)
I originally wanted to go to the party as a jelly baby. Then I decided that because I’m having such a disastrous sex life at the moment any slim chance of getting laid would be damaged by painting myself purple and wearing a nappy. So I settled on being a zombie like everyone else. At first this decision looked like being my greatest ever. I met two hot female zombies at the party and we chatted in great depth about how we became zombies. One claimed to of been hit by a train and become undead that way. Unfortunately in my drunken state I felt the need to explain that she couldn’t have been hit by a train; her injuries weren’t nearly severe enough. (She would have been splatted.) This was intended as a joke but it made me sound like some freaky gore expert who pickles dead things. Needless to say the drought continues. One big plus is that god is now on my side, as I befriended a zombie Jesus. Let’s hope Christ is a good wing man.
Drunkometer 6/10
Woozilla 4/10
Overall woozilla 8/10 PETE GOT LUCKY
Moistometer 5/10 it pissed it down at night!
NIGHT OUT RATING 9/10
Today I watched films and drank milkshakes with my good friends Lucy Pete and Potty Mouth. To be continued....
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
ANTI CLIMAX
I just realized cliff hangers don’t really work when the most recent post is at the top of the page. The Gingersnaps thing was all about some free biscuits that came from a door to door salesman. He came selling tea from M and S and giving away gingersnaps with every purchase. It was just one of those once in a life time deals like when Bill Gates bought Microsoft for 400 dollars.
Ringtons Tea bags rating 9.5/10
Ringtons Gingersnaps rating 14.6/18
Ringtons Tea bags remaining 73/80
Ringtons Gingersnaps remaining 1/20
So after my 5th tea of the day I went on a night out in the student union with Seth and Pete. Living with seven men has rendered me incapable of communicating with women I don’t already know. This condition also causes me to fall in love with just about anyone and everything on a night out. I think last night I declared my undying affection for at least five women. One in particular caused me to make an absolute fool of myself. I have bumped into this girl, Sarah on several occasions and she is a fresher so obviously she should be flattered by a sweet as hell finalist showing her the slightest bit of interest. Think again. Well strictly speaking that’s not true; she gave me plenty of opportunity. We spoke for a bit then went our separate ways, I then saw her from across the room and we made eye contact but didn’t speak. Then the awkwardness inevitably followed from THE DREADED “over eye contact”. Our eyes met like three more times (randomly I’d like to add.). In different parts of the club (again not stalkerish, random!), but it wasn’t really talking distance, more leering distance. Eventually after desperately trying not to eyeball her I looked right into her fat eyes again and cringed right in her face at my own accidental stalker behaviour. Romance over. Some of the more optimistic of you might say she was trying to make eye contact with me. All I will say is I seriously doubt it. That will teach me for Fresher fishing. A good night out though; especially when Pete pushed Seth down a hill in a trolley at the end of one of my more sophisticated evenings.
NIGHT OUT RATING 7.5/10
Woozilla rating 2/10
Drunkometer 5/10
Ringtons Tea bags rating 9.5/10
Ringtons Gingersnaps rating 14.6/18
Ringtons Tea bags remaining 73/80
Ringtons Gingersnaps remaining 1/20
So after my 5th tea of the day I went on a night out in the student union with Seth and Pete. Living with seven men has rendered me incapable of communicating with women I don’t already know. This condition also causes me to fall in love with just about anyone and everything on a night out. I think last night I declared my undying affection for at least five women. One in particular caused me to make an absolute fool of myself. I have bumped into this girl, Sarah on several occasions and she is a fresher so obviously she should be flattered by a sweet as hell finalist showing her the slightest bit of interest. Think again. Well strictly speaking that’s not true; she gave me plenty of opportunity. We spoke for a bit then went our separate ways, I then saw her from across the room and we made eye contact but didn’t speak. Then the awkwardness inevitably followed from THE DREADED “over eye contact”. Our eyes met like three more times (randomly I’d like to add.). In different parts of the club (again not stalkerish, random!), but it wasn’t really talking distance, more leering distance. Eventually after desperately trying not to eyeball her I looked right into her fat eyes again and cringed right in her face at my own accidental stalker behaviour. Romance over. Some of the more optimistic of you might say she was trying to make eye contact with me. All I will say is I seriously doubt it. That will teach me for Fresher fishing. A good night out though; especially when Pete pushed Seth down a hill in a trolley at the end of one of my more sophisticated evenings.
NIGHT OUT RATING 7.5/10
Woozilla rating 2/10
Drunkometer 5/10
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
GINGERSNAPS
The worst thing about living with your friends is they know you’re weaknesses. My ultimate weakness recently has been being talked into nights out that I just shouldn’t go on. Tonight for example; I am bound to embark on a drunken adventure with Seth and Pete. One that will start with the promise of fun, socializing and sex, but will realistically end with an alcohol fuelled headache and wanking into a fist full of tissue paper while watching porn titled something awful like ‘busty blonde bitch squeals like a weasel,” (that actually exists by the way). Only hours ago I was innocently indulging my recent fetish for French pop and world music. Then after a mild nudge from my housemates I was convinced going out tonight is the best idea anyone has ever had. We will have to see how it goes but at least if anything bad happens I am fantastically well prepared for any Survival situation thanks to today’s....
MOISTEST MAN OF THE MOMENT!
Ray Mears is probably just about as cool as it is possible to be without having sex with the girl from Gray’s anatomy. Today on Ultimate Survival with Ray Mears I learned about this awesome guy called Rogers who was in charge of an equally awesome band of British soldiers back in the old days. Basically he raided a Native American village and slaughtered an absolute hatful of women and children. Then he ate leaves for a month and camped. After a bit he went to big fort so the Indians couldn’t get revenge and everyone cheered.... what a hero! But yeah that sort of understated his military genius. Ray Mears however had me on the edge of my seat for a full hour as he described Rogers many exploits and showed us all how to eat a root if we get lost in a forest. I was going to explain why this entry is called gingersnaps, but time has caught up with me and I have to go and down a bottle of saino’s basics table wine. Perhaps another time!
HOW ABOUT THAT FOR A CLIFF HANGER?
MOISTEST MAN OF THE MOMENT!
Ray Mears is probably just about as cool as it is possible to be without having sex with the girl from Gray’s anatomy. Today on Ultimate Survival with Ray Mears I learned about this awesome guy called Rogers who was in charge of an equally awesome band of British soldiers back in the old days. Basically he raided a Native American village and slaughtered an absolute hatful of women and children. Then he ate leaves for a month and camped. After a bit he went to big fort so the Indians couldn’t get revenge and everyone cheered.... what a hero! But yeah that sort of understated his military genius. Ray Mears however had me on the edge of my seat for a full hour as he described Rogers many exploits and showed us all how to eat a root if we get lost in a forest. I was going to explain why this entry is called gingersnaps, but time has caught up with me and I have to go and down a bottle of saino’s basics table wine. Perhaps another time!
HOW ABOUT THAT FOR A CLIFF HANGER?
Monday, 26 October 2009
Careers Fare
Now if you don’t know me then I should probably say that I am a student in my final year of university, which explains why I have enough time to write a blog. One thing that we students do have to do, other than destroy our livers and watch Jeremy Kyle is visit careers fares. I have to say I really hate those bloody things. Fair enough it is a good opportunity for companies to show what they have to offer in the way of jobs, and it’s also great for us students preparing to be spat, kicking and screaming into the real world to get a head start in the application process. However it always seems to me, to be one of the most worrying twenty minutes of the term; not only this, but with each passing term the worry factor increases tenfold. There are always scores of eager, clean cut, organized looking students (who wear wrist watches) crowding around equally clean cut, wrist watch wearing employers discussing in great depth, various career options. I think the reason for my fear is that, this is it. This is when all that time you spent listening to the right music, watching the right films and drinking the night before lectures in an effort to be cool finally catches up with you. From now on, it’s the geeky keeno’s in charge. My epiphany came when I stood in the middle of the careers hall with my buddies off my course. I was, trying to look a bit cool with my scruffy hair and tattered jeans waiting for the man who gives out really cool jobs to approach me, (he would be a fellow coolio) and say
“Hey man, you look pretty cool, want a job?”
To which I would reply,
“Yeah sure, do you want me to rock up from about noon till three in the afternoon and then pay me a few grand a week?”
If you haven’t been to a careers fare before, it turns out, actually this doesn’t happen. It’s the people who do the courses with all those hours of lectures and tutorials who the rest of laughed off as idiots who get the jobs.
“Hey Rich I got a free pen, what you get?”
“Hey Moist I got a job with a starting salary of 40 grand a year.”
It’s even worse if you have no idea what you actually want to do with your life. You approach a stool with a cool picture of a rocket ship or a huge car full of money and then find out that they either don’t employ Sociology graduates or the job they have to offer you is in human resources and the work involves sitting in an office telling people which part of the county they should be in over the phone. Either that or you can have a job going around telling other people what jobs they could be doing.
I left the fare, came home and watched home’s under the hammer. This would usually have been mind numbing escapism hour, but then one of the presenters said “Success only comes before work in the dictionary.” Ouch.
“Hey man, you look pretty cool, want a job?”
To which I would reply,
“Yeah sure, do you want me to rock up from about noon till three in the afternoon and then pay me a few grand a week?”
If you haven’t been to a careers fare before, it turns out, actually this doesn’t happen. It’s the people who do the courses with all those hours of lectures and tutorials who the rest of laughed off as idiots who get the jobs.
“Hey Rich I got a free pen, what you get?”
“Hey Moist I got a job with a starting salary of 40 grand a year.”
It’s even worse if you have no idea what you actually want to do with your life. You approach a stool with a cool picture of a rocket ship or a huge car full of money and then find out that they either don’t employ Sociology graduates or the job they have to offer you is in human resources and the work involves sitting in an office telling people which part of the county they should be in over the phone. Either that or you can have a job going around telling other people what jobs they could be doing.
I left the fare, came home and watched home’s under the hammer. This would usually have been mind numbing escapism hour, but then one of the presenters said “Success only comes before work in the dictionary.” Ouch.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Show Me The Money
Having managed to sober up from my weekend in Manchester I sat down this morning and attempted to do some work for my dissertation. Roughly an hour later I decided to go into town with my friend Lucy, and three well spent hours after that we sat down to watch Jerry Maguire. A day well wasted.
The film was pretty good actually, if a little cheesy in parts. My main problem with it was that Tom Cruise is so good at playing a slime ball for the first half an hour that by the time he becomes the good guy I just can't buy it. However Cuba Gooding Jr was awesome. So good in fact that i am making him
MOISTEST MAN OF THE MOMENT!!
As far as ladies are concerned Renee Zellweger has a very difficult name to spell. Being dyslexic I resent her complex spelling and therefore refuse to comment further on her performance. It has to be said I nearly had a sob when Cuba gets injured (sorry it's not that ruined don't worry) so overall not to bad at all
Weepometer 7/10
Whats in it for him? blow job lips
Whats in it for her? a cute child with glasses and a giant head
Laughometer 5/10
OVERALL !!! 6.5/10
Finally i would just like to give the award for LOVE OF MY LIFE (for the day)
THE GIRL FROM GRAYS ANATOMY AND OLD SCHOOL !!!
Well done to you!
good night x
The film was pretty good actually, if a little cheesy in parts. My main problem with it was that Tom Cruise is so good at playing a slime ball for the first half an hour that by the time he becomes the good guy I just can't buy it. However Cuba Gooding Jr was awesome. So good in fact that i am making him
MOISTEST MAN OF THE MOMENT!!
As far as ladies are concerned Renee Zellweger has a very difficult name to spell. Being dyslexic I resent her complex spelling and therefore refuse to comment further on her performance. It has to be said I nearly had a sob when Cuba gets injured (sorry it's not that ruined don't worry) so overall not to bad at all
Weepometer 7/10
Whats in it for him? blow job lips
Whats in it for her? a cute child with glasses and a giant head
Laughometer 5/10
OVERALL !!! 6.5/10
Finally i would just like to give the award for LOVE OF MY LIFE (for the day)
THE GIRL FROM GRAYS ANATOMY AND OLD SCHOOL !!!
Well done to you!
good night x
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Manchester
night out rating 9.5/10
indian rating 7/10
overall moist rating 2/10
Drunkometer 6/10
Hangover (ten being the worst) 2/10
Overall Woozilla (ten being the best) 8/10
Individual Woozilla 3/10
LOVE OF THE DAY Kate Hudson
Dr Damp and I explored Manchester last night with our good friends Candy and Rum. They took us to for an indian on curry mile, which was sweet as hell. I had jalfrazi and Damp had a rogan josh which the Doctor called "Alright.". The best bit was it only cost us 6. 50! One of Candy's friends didnt come with us because she didn't like spice. Which i will hold against her for the rest of her life. Then we ventured to Rum's house for Pre drinks. ( the good doctor and i had already been drinking for some time and were feeling fruity). As we played Ring of fire things quickly stepped up a notch. In no time at all we were in Bar Bar's. It was an awesome place and the drinks were cheap. Damp and I got the shots in and we recommend the Dave. From Bar Bars we went to another place. It was the wierdest club I've ever been to, it was like an old man pub with loads of lights. Damp and I invented possibly the greatest bass line of all time "boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom bobo bo bo bob bobbbbbbbb" " " Bo cha bo cha bo cha bo cha. On the way home, I was called hot by a lady and my ego inflated massivley. fantastic
indian rating 7/10
overall moist rating 2/10
Drunkometer 6/10
Hangover (ten being the worst) 2/10
Overall Woozilla (ten being the best) 8/10
Individual Woozilla 3/10
LOVE OF THE DAY Kate Hudson
Dr Damp and I explored Manchester last night with our good friends Candy and Rum. They took us to for an indian on curry mile, which was sweet as hell. I had jalfrazi and Damp had a rogan josh which the Doctor called "Alright.". The best bit was it only cost us 6. 50! One of Candy's friends didnt come with us because she didn't like spice. Which i will hold against her for the rest of her life. Then we ventured to Rum's house for Pre drinks. ( the good doctor and i had already been drinking for some time and were feeling fruity). As we played Ring of fire things quickly stepped up a notch. In no time at all we were in Bar Bar's. It was an awesome place and the drinks were cheap. Damp and I got the shots in and we recommend the Dave. From Bar Bars we went to another place. It was the wierdest club I've ever been to, it was like an old man pub with loads of lights. Damp and I invented possibly the greatest bass line of all time "boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom bobo bo bo bob bobbbbbbbb" " " Bo cha bo cha bo cha bo cha. On the way home, I was called hot by a lady and my ego inflated massivley. fantastic
Friday, 23 October 2009
blogging has ruined my life
It has been roughly an hour since my first blog and it has already had a huge impact on me. I'm sat in my friends kitchen being anti social. Several people who have said hello to me have been greeted with a vacant stare as i briefly and very half-heartedly look away from the screen, only to return, moments later, to the comfort of my glowing rectangle. The only one who understands my new obsession is my companion Dr Damp. I am happily sipping on my third quadruple vodka and coke, (the glass is very moist) with my friend as we prepare for a night of galavanting in Manchester.
lots of love Moist_Chin
lots of love Moist_Chin
my first moist experience.
Having arrived in manchester for the first time in my life I was stuck by how moist it was. I can't really be bothered with an introduction of any kind but I will say that I am young man from noble stock and I intend to blog my assorted adventures and exploits.
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