Flying solo.

Creative side of mine…it’s been a while.

Although I did not realise that is has been so long. Back in March time I had ALOT more free time (doing basically nothing all day seemed to allow that), hence the opportunities to spit my useless rabble to those of you who had as much free time as me to read it. However, as of late it feels that I haven’t had the time to input the small amount of effort I have into something productive, creative and/or useful. Not that I am saying any of these posts/this post particular have been/will be interesting, it just beats spending your time online refreshing Facebook every 2.4 seconds in the hope that “Becky ‘mad raving binge drinking necrophiliac’ Greaves” has uploaded any pictures from last night. Marginally.

Alot has happened mind in the 3 or so months since I last posted something on here. I fistbumped Master Gee from the Sugar Hill Gang. I made a giant cookie. I made a cocktail of Red Stripe and Port. You know, real life changing “shit”.

However, this biggest change in my life recently, has been an addition to my pocket. That addition is a Blackberry (although I enjoy calling it a “Whackberry” as in my white, middle class thesis I think it sounds somewhat gang$ter). This has been life changing for me in two ways.

1, It means that I can update my various status’s  on the move, so I am always ready for that opportune moment to write “Jack Paradise is eating food and drinking a drink”. Exciting.

2, The second way that having a Whackberry has changed my life is that because I have not learnt to text comfortably on it yet, texting whilst driving seems like a great effort. This will ensure that I am alive for a good month or so from now. Until I get confident with it that is.

It’s made me feel that I could be someone from The Hills (shotgun not Spencer. I have a Sister who enjoys all things Katie Price related, so even I know that Spencer is a cock)

But as I am still getting to grips with it and all that it delivers,  it got me thinking. Do I really need all this stuff? I will never ever be in a position to have to conference call someone, as I will never be important enough to attend a conference of any sort. It comes with Myspace, but does anyone actually use Myspace anymore other than bands, 14 year old emo girls and peadophiles who are attracted to 14 year old emo girls? And do I actually need updates from my e-mail when the only e-mails I get are from Domino’s Pizza, Pizza Hut and Spam porn sites?

Also, maybe it’s because the novelty of having a new phone is still exactly that. A novelty. However, I am quite worried to how attached i’ve become to it. Everytime I feel my ass vibrate I feel that it must be something important. It never is, yet I still choose to focus my attention on it when I could probably be having some real, genuine human contact.

With this being the case, I feel that the country. Nay, the world would all be better of if we changed the way that we contacted people.

I suggest that everyone parts with phones, once and for all, whatever phone it may be. Instead, as means of communications, everyone should be handed a trained carrier pigeon. Bare with me on this one. So, whenever anyone wanted to send a “text” if you will, you simply write your message on a notepad and send the pigeon off to it’s destination. Yes, there will probably be a slight problem when it comes to the amount of droppings on our streets (one of the cons of having more birds in the air), but with a Tory Government, were being shat on enough as it is.

Phone calls would be made by parrot. Simply repeat what you want to say a few hundred times to the parrot, and then again, send it on it’s way.

Tweeting/Facebook updates would be made by using a flock of carrier pigeons, to deliver whatever it is you would like to share with the world. However, to make this easier all pigeons would be equipped with chalkboards to eradicate the need for people to keep writing new notes per pigeon.

All pigeons will be attached with a camera (Pigeon Cam) to record all what is happening around it.

This is a win/win for everybody. No more unsightly phone masts. No more roaming charges. No more overseas charges.

Rejoice.

P.S. I am aware that I am communicating with you all through online means, and not pigeon.

Eurgh, eurgh, that’s the sound of da undead.

This is a hard one for me. I feel that  haven’t been paying this blog too much attention as of late. This is not because I have recently been especially busy in what  do, simply I haven’t had anything particularly interesting/anything that I could pass off as being interesting to say in about a week or so.

Not that it hasn’t been an interesting week. America has witnessed the start of what may be a full health reform for the country (if not a little disappointing at the moment), Alistair Darling has delivered his pre election budget which aims to tackle young, cretinous binge drinkers becoming actual zombies through consuming copious amounts of Frosty Jacks/White Lightening (personal preferences of course) and probably what is the bggest news story of the new Millenium, The Bill has been cancelled after 27 years. Not only are we losing a piece of our British televisual heritage, a programme which propelled the shining careers of British greats such as Hugh Laurie, Kiera Knightley and who could forget Alex Kingston, but we are losing the shining star of modern British thespianism…Al Bastian, of former Hollyoaks fame.

But in writing that utterly pointless paragraph, hoping to fill up space in order to give me an excuse to write less, I stumbled upon a possible subject. Zombies.

I’ve always had a love for zombies. It’s been a total platonic relationship of course, and not an actual relationship that I have eagerly sought out. I of course am talking about the sort of Zombie love and admiration which starts at films, and ends at films. With a few comic books thrown in for good measure of course. I have all too often wondered what I myself would do when the inevitable outbreak of the undead comes to Earth, and it is a subject which I have thought about an equally as much detail.

Now, this may seem to you to be a very childish, pointless and the largest waste of time since BBC Three was created, but don’t be so quick to dismiss it. A zombie outbreak is something that everyone should atleast prepare for, like a Tornado or Swine Flu. Having taken guidance from films such as 28 days later, Dawn of the Dead and also Shaun of the Dead, I feel that I would be able to fare quite well. General fitness would probably let me down majorly, but how much that will affect my chances of survival relies upon what kind of Zombies they will be. The common breed are the slow, brainless variety which are relatively easy to disperse of. Kinda like Daily Mail readers. In this case, a high level of fitness won’t be necessary. However, if they are the rabid kind like from 28 days later, it would be more important, hence why I am contemplating joining a gym…”just incase”.

Another worry of mine is arsenal. What would I use/what would be best to use in an event such as this? With a house full of marginally more useful than useless items in my house which range from garlic presses, to milk frothers, to portable fridges which require a plug socket (therefore making it not very portable at all) I have a large variety of which to choose from. A personal favourite of mine I have decided however, would probably be a Henry hoover. I know what you are thinking, “why am I even reading this shite?”. No, not that, “what use would a Henry hoover be?”. Well aswel as a suck option (no childish jokes necessary thank you, take that smut to The Daily Sport) it also has a blow option (again, no childish jokes) which after testing out a few times, can fire a marble at a pretty high speed. Ideal for causing major injury to any impeding zombie horde. Also, with the nozzle I feel that I will be able to hold it sideways whilst firing, transforming me from a middle class white boy in skinny jeans into Dr Dre, Snoop Dogg, Ice T, or any other respectable gangster turned actor (of sorts) who have held there guns sideways. This will make me instantly awesome.

As to accomodation, a local leather making factory based only 15 minutes away from me would be the perfect spot. It is situated next to a river, thus allowing me to be in the safe knowledge that there is a steady stream of water between me, and the flesh eating victims. On the other side, there is a large, flat field, perfect for setting traps and burying mines to disperse of anyone who would come withing 350 feet of my “base” if you can call it that. Also, it’s close to my town centre, which means that I only have to survive for 5 minutes in order to get myself to Argos for whatever it is I would need.

I could go on, however a recurring theme has occured once more, which is based on the fact that I can’t really be bothered too.

P.S. I am aware that this is the single biggest waste of time ever, but if you are reading this you have also wasted your time. You should feel ashamed of yourself.

R.I.P. Jesus.

Today, I witnessed the end of something truly horrible and disheartening.

Something more meaningful than the fall of Capitalism, something more horrible than a shit based Shish kebab…the death of the Easter Bunny thus, the death of Easter itself.

“I’m sorry Jimmy, there will be no Easter chocolate for anybody this year…”

End flight.

Firstly, I would like to get this out of the way. Hello.

Now we’ve moved on from that, I would like to tell you that for this post, I have had to Google, Wikipedia and yes, even Ask Jeeves, quite a few different words/phrases in order to supply the information to make this post understandable. Some of these included “sexist jokes, Dead travelling Frenchmen” and “Buddy Holly’s plane crash” That should surely give you a little insight into what the following ramblings may be about. Or not. I’m not too sure.

Either way, whether you are aware or not, myself and my friend Dave (19/M/Jew) will be in September, attempting to travel from London to Paris via push bike. Now, not being the most physically able of people, we/everybody who we have asked about it are very sceptical as to whether we will actually make it there with our lives and modesty intact. It will be 300km of sheer English and French countryside, great food, even greater company and steady exercise. When you look at it like this, it seems that this task will be more like a scene from an ITV1 period drama, where the two of us will be atop Penny Farthings, bidding good day to Harold the postman whilst he does his rounds, spinning in circles wearing a dress singing “The Sound Of Music” when were supposed to be escaping from the Nazi’s, and making many a Mr. Darcy reference. We can assure you however, that it will be alot harder than I have just described.

With this being the case, in order to inject some confidence into my blood stream (without the use of needles and/or actual confidence serum) I have done some research into two people that have both succeeded and failed in completing expeditions and challenges, whether they be for charity, personal reasons, or just because the left wing of a plane exploded, causing death to all passengers inside meaning that they did not make it to their final destination. Their final destination being home of course, not heaven, as we all know how silly that is.

So firstly, Amelia Earhart. Amelia was one of the first Female pilots to ever grace the skies, succeeding in becoming also the First woman to fly across the Atlantic. However, in 1937, Amelia vanished whilst attempting to become the first woman to fly around the world.

When reading into the story of this (the details of which I will not bore you with) it failed to fill me with any hope whatsoever. With Amelia being a seasoned professional in what she did when she disappeared, there is a higher possibility that I will fail in a different sporting category (being a non-professional/smoker/lover of fattening foods/hater of exercise). I am aware that I will have help at hand to aid us if we were to encounter any trouble, but so did Amelia when she vanished, so I feel that the comparisons I making here are relatively sound.

Fun Fact: The disappearance of Amelia Earhart spawned what is known today as “Women’s Driving Joke’s” after, being a woman, she failed to drive her plane across the Atlantic. *This is an actual fact, not based on my personal opinions. Examples of these jokes include:

“We bumped into some old friends yesterday, my wife was driving”

“Wife: “There’s trouble with the car. It has water in the carburettor.”
Husband: “Water in the carburettor? That’s ridiculous.”
Wife: “I tell you the car has water in the carburettor.”
Husband: “You don’t even know what a carburettor is. Where’s the car?”
Wife: “In the swimming pool.”

After coming to this conclusion, I decided that I need to find someone that would give me a boost. It was then I realised that Chris Moyles completed a sponsored hike to the top of Mt. Killimangaro for Sport Relief in 2009. This was the piece of news I was hoping for. For someone who is medically described as being a long suffering “Fat Basterd”, it gave me hope to think that if he could climb an escalator, let alone a Mountain, in aid of something good, then I can do the same. Whilst enjoying French baguettes and Pan Au Chocolate along the way too. What also filled me with confidence was the fact that Fearne Cotton also joined them on this trip. Now, to have two people as utterly cunt like, two people so absolutely appalling to the senses as much as Chris & Fearne are who are willing to do something such as that, then I would feel that I would be insulting every member of the Great British public by not undertaking this challenge. Also, I feel that my Mum would be horribly disappointed in me, which is a far worse prospect than being below Radio 1 hosts.

Fun Fact: The Guinness World Records have awarded Chris Moyles to be “The Worlds heaviest cock, standing proud at 22 stone”

I also looked into The Space Race, The Bermuda Triangle, and September 11th to find other sources of information which would allow me to compare, but I didn’t feel it relevant.

Also, i’m quite tired.

End.

Lost love.

Something happened to me yesterday which made me realise something. Something that after only one day, has managed to change my perception on my life. Now, i’ve been single for a good a while. Not that this has been something that has particularly bothered me in the past, nor has it caused me any loss of sleep, loneliness, feelings of self loathing, depression, days upon days of of feeling that my life can only be described as pitiful, spending every minute in my bed crying, drinking gin from an egg cup and masturbating over wank rainbows consisting only of cuttings of Page 3 models and photo’s of Melanie Sykes, horrible, horribl….yes, all in all not something that i’ve spent alot of time thinking about.

However, I have noticed that I do tend to do nothing else other than make a total fool of myself infront of the opposite sex. This is unintentional of course, as I don’t particularly want to live to be 90 or so years old in the company of my 87 cats, a tank full of fish and a collection of novelty mugs. Anyway, yesterday…

After deciding to take a leisurely trip out into the countryside with my good friend George, we were attempting to look for what possibly may be Britains most inbred pub. After taking many a wrong turn, finding ourselves on a road that once again sent us further away from our destination, we decided that for the third time, we should ask for directions. This is where we saw a lady and her dog walking along the side of the road. We pulled over, and asked her for directions. And very detailed she was with those aswel, but more importantly, she was abit of a moisty. Almost like a Liz Hurley in Bedazzled character, sophisticated, well spoken, articu….basically, she could be desribed as “bang tidy”.

It was afterwards that when me and George were talking about this (being male, we obviously went into a great amount of detail) that I realised that once again, I had accidentally made a dick of myself. After using the word “tits” for about the 7th time, I decided to check myself out in the pull down mirror. It was then that I sorely regretted eating Jaffa Cakes for dinner, as it meant that I had chocolate smeared all across my bottom lip, which would have been there whilst I was attempting to act as cool as Fonzi in an Ice Cream Factory in a blizzard infront of that lady and her dog.

Now, I don’t tend to use this saying very often, but in this situation it is VERY necessary….FML.

From sea to shining sea…

For all it’s past glories and present triumphs, America really is an idiotic yet, brilliant place.

I should state that before I go on, that this post is obviously not targeting the WHOLE of America, as I will not go into the boring, and un-important details of said country, i.e. politics, healthcare reform, religion, Oprah etc. Instead, I will mainly be focusing on the people of America that deem it necessary to create such websites that give an insight into the stupidity, yet brilliance of this nation.

Incase you were wondering, this post was brought on after I found myself becoming infuriated by the sheer amount of comments from Americans that popped up on my Twitter page, all focusing on one of the many sports that I am not interested in. Ice Hockey. In my opinion, it is a “sport” that owes every bit of it’s present day success and popularity to the film “The Mighty Ducks”.

So to begin, I have been enthralled with a website that goes by the name of: http://www.thisiswhyyourefat.com

Now I understand that this sounds like a website that may have been created by Gillian McKeith, bullying you into a regime of healthy eating by means of sifting through your shit for slight imperfections or convincing you that you are a disgrace to your family simply for being partial to the odd deep fried, cheese and bacon wrapped tub of lard.

This site, shows you the greatness that can be achieved by simply entering a supermarket blindfolded, and then picking whatever it is you get your hands on and then somehow making it into what can be loosely described as a “meal” No food variations are ruled out. I also learnt from this that Americans are partial to the odd bit of bacon. For example, one of my personal favourites was this:

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/post/385824028/bacon-cheese-turtleburgers-ground-beef-pattie

For a second I hope you aswel as I found this cute. Until you realise that indeed, it looks about as appealing as a turd wrapped in a bow tie, with a speech bubble above it stating “shaken, not stirred”. Not content with simply creating an endangered species using only bacon, cheese, a retarded imagination and too much free time, some Americans deem it acceptable to include bacon in places that not even Dr Seuss could imagine. Now, this next photo conjured up a question in my head, how can (a number of) American people value their healthcare so much that they are willing to voice their disgust at Obama’s plans for health reform, yet conjure up something as life threatening and heart attack inducing as this?

http://thisiswhyyourefat.com/post/370780954/the-bacon-bar-bacon-and-ground-pork-sausage-baked

However, even with these points made, I can’t help but be in awe at the creativity, and the blatent “Fuck You’s” these people are giving to the rising levels of obesity, childhood obesity, type 2 diabeties and middle aged heart attacks that America is seeing right now.

Another website that I have been addicted to in the past is: http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/

Now, this is something that every man, woman and child who has ever visited Michael Jackson’s house can relate to. Everyone has had the experience of waking up to the knowledge that you sent a text last night that you probably shouldn’t have sent, or have texted a friend informing them of the nights activies…this is a round up of the best of those.

For example: dude we were spooning naked in bed with her ass in my crotch. she sharted in her sleep all over my dick.

All I knew of American college students was what I have learnt from watching American Pie as a child (or atleast the stereotype of American college students). This was simply that they drank from red cups alot, they had sex at proms and that their was one Mum (or Mom) that everyone wanted to have sex with. After visiting this website, I don’t know what to believe.

Yet, I couldn’t help but think…why don’t I attend parties that sound this good? I mean, I wouldn’t like to be in the situation where i’d be texting a friend saying “ohhhh fuckk. Chicks a dude” but I would certainly love to be at the party at which that took place.

I have many a more websites which I could include in this post, but as it’s 6 minutes past 1 on a Wednesday morning, I simply cannot be bothered to do it now, although I will in the near future (possibly)

ps. For Turan.

Snowballs.

Ahhh…Memories of Winter.