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Sunday 7 September 2008
Triplicunt
I still can't find it
Went out for lunch with a client today and got back to the office reasonably drunk. Nothing extreme, just merry. As soon as I got back to the office I headed for the toilets as I needed to take a leak. I'm at the urinal, undo my fly and reach inside.
I bought a load of new underwear a few weeks back. They are trunks, not too long but quite tight (please try and see past how gay that sounds). Like most trunks they have a flap at the front. Well, i'm still not perfectly used to them and as I got up late today and got dressed in a hurry, I must have put them on backwards and not noticed. Thus, no flap.
Back to me fiddling drunkenly in my fly. I must have been scrabbling about in there for about 10 seconds when I muttered to myself "Where the fuck is my cock?". It was only then that I noticed the new CEO of my company washing his hands at the sink. He was clocking me with a quizzical expression and I don't blame him.
I bought a load of new underwear a few weeks back. They are trunks, not too long but quite tight (please try and see past how gay that sounds). Like most trunks they have a flap at the front. Well, i'm still not perfectly used to them and as I got up late today and got dressed in a hurry, I must have put them on backwards and not noticed. Thus, no flap.
Back to me fiddling drunkenly in my fly. I must have been scrabbling about in there for about 10 seconds when I muttered to myself "Where the fuck is my cock?". It was only then that I noticed the new CEO of my company washing his hands at the sink. He was clocking me with a quizzical expression and I don't blame him.
B.Apples
The scientific world is reeling today as one of its cornerstone beliefs was shattered and scientific boundaries were pushed further into what had been previously the unknown.
Professor B.Apples recent study into "Hot Things and Drunkenness - A Happy Marriage?" was completed at the University Of My Kitchen. It was discovered that melted cheese straight from under the grill is actually 35 times hotter than the surface of the Sun.
Professor Apples was quoted as saying "This study is the culmination of an entire day drinking and then coming home hungry. Everything went to plan perfectly, I arrived at the University Of My Kitchen at about 8pm and found myself yearning for melted cheese on toast. Being the impatient cunt that I am, I decided to attempt eating the cheesy goodness within 10 seconds of it being removed from under the grill. Everything fell into place then and half of the cheese slid off the toast and flapped against my chin. Textbook. As every scientist knows, that shit sticks to you harder than herpes and I soon found myself screaming blue murder at a dairy product which was in the process of melting my lower face. *laughs* I am ashamed to say that a few choice words escaped my mouth at this point but once I had scraped the offending cheese off, and with it some of my face, I sprang into action. Luckily for science, I had the presence of mind to grab the nearest thermometer, you know, one of those you stick up your arse, and recorded a temperature of 525,000,000 Celsius. I had to really crane my neck to see the final temperature as the markers on the thermometer went in fives."
Professor Apples was said to be critical but stable in Great Ormond Street Hospital. When I spoke to the hospital administration earlier I asked them why the professor was admitted to a children's hospital. The orderly replied that since Professor Apples had a mental age of 7, a children's hospital was seen as the perfect place to aid him in his recovery.
Professor B.Apples recent study into "Hot Things and Drunkenness - A Happy Marriage?" was completed at the University Of My Kitchen. It was discovered that melted cheese straight from under the grill is actually 35 times hotter than the surface of the Sun.
Professor Apples was quoted as saying "This study is the culmination of an entire day drinking and then coming home hungry. Everything went to plan perfectly, I arrived at the University Of My Kitchen at about 8pm and found myself yearning for melted cheese on toast. Being the impatient cunt that I am, I decided to attempt eating the cheesy goodness within 10 seconds of it being removed from under the grill. Everything fell into place then and half of the cheese slid off the toast and flapped against my chin. Textbook. As every scientist knows, that shit sticks to you harder than herpes and I soon found myself screaming blue murder at a dairy product which was in the process of melting my lower face. *laughs* I am ashamed to say that a few choice words escaped my mouth at this point but once I had scraped the offending cheese off, and with it some of my face, I sprang into action. Luckily for science, I had the presence of mind to grab the nearest thermometer, you know, one of those you stick up your arse, and recorded a temperature of 525,000,000 Celsius. I had to really crane my neck to see the final temperature as the markers on the thermometer went in fives."
Professor Apples was said to be critical but stable in Great Ormond Street Hospital. When I spoke to the hospital administration earlier I asked them why the professor was admitted to a children's hospital. The orderly replied that since Professor Apples had a mental age of 7, a children's hospital was seen as the perfect place to aid him in his recovery.
Parents. Don't do it
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For the love of God, no
Cats on the internet. This one has been done to death and i'm not having a gripe. I am however rather stoned right now so humour me.
As technology advances, so we advance alongside it. Every little breakthrough is broadcast to us all in the form of quicker computers, smaller televisions, larger televisions, quicker cars etc. All this is taken in stride of course as we have enough time to become totally used to the new advance as the next one arrives. If I were to see what I see now when I was 7 years old, I am sure I would be astounded. I had not made the journey and could therefore not become accustomed to the details along the way.
With that in mind; how will the internet manifest itself in 40 or 50 years? Will it be more like what virtual reality was supposed to be a few years ago? This speculation is borne more of a stoned countenance than a scientific mind of course but I don't think that would be too impossible. Imagine the whole world online in a completely virtual world. 100% interactable.
Ok, now I have painted the picture. Imagine getting a message from one of those annoying people that forward shitty emails. Would the internet have evolved enough to have you just going about your own business and then being utterly swarmed by lolcats? All talking in nonsense. All daft faces and "HALP!" and "OH HAI!". Fucking smothering you in that annoying way cats have. 300 retarded and spasticated cats weaving between your legs as you are crossing the street. Appearing out of nowhere to reduce your life to useless fragments.
Wouldn't that be the most horrific experience.
As technology advances, so we advance alongside it. Every little breakthrough is broadcast to us all in the form of quicker computers, smaller televisions, larger televisions, quicker cars etc. All this is taken in stride of course as we have enough time to become totally used to the new advance as the next one arrives. If I were to see what I see now when I was 7 years old, I am sure I would be astounded. I had not made the journey and could therefore not become accustomed to the details along the way.
With that in mind; how will the internet manifest itself in 40 or 50 years? Will it be more like what virtual reality was supposed to be a few years ago? This speculation is borne more of a stoned countenance than a scientific mind of course but I don't think that would be too impossible. Imagine the whole world online in a completely virtual world. 100% interactable.
Ok, now I have painted the picture. Imagine getting a message from one of those annoying people that forward shitty emails. Would the internet have evolved enough to have you just going about your own business and then being utterly swarmed by lolcats? All talking in nonsense. All daft faces and "HALP!" and "OH HAI!". Fucking smothering you in that annoying way cats have. 300 retarded and spasticated cats weaving between your legs as you are crossing the street. Appearing out of nowhere to reduce your life to useless fragments.
Wouldn't that be the most horrific experience.
Camels
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Important
The importance of putting words in the right order.
Spider Monkey - Awww. Cute.
Monkey Spider - Holy shit. Scariest thing on eight legs. Run for the fucking hills
Spider Monkey - Awww. Cute.
Monkey Spider - Holy shit. Scariest thing on eight legs. Run for the fucking hills
Proof that God is a cunt
Proof that God is a cunt. Me treading on an upturned plug three times in two days. I know that we are supposed to have free choice and that is why God doesn't interfere but I would gladly be a God driven robot of the apocalypse if it meant no more fucking plugs.
A plug is a handy thing until it lies on its back. Then it becomes a cunt.
I prefer the religious system of the old pagans. The religions where they have Gods for every little thing. Makes far more sense than the single omnipotent God. The God Of Making A Cup Of Tea has been a close personal friend of mine for years. We chat, laugh, joke. He giveth up his juice and I sup heartily at his teat. That kind of thing. Then you get the more scurrilous Gods. The God Of Painting for instance. He is a huge cunt. I rarely see him but whenever I do he makes my life miserable. The God of Drama is another one. She comes and goes in waves. She is pretty busy right now. As long as she isn't looking at me, I enjoy her frilly and turbulent ministrations.
Life is way easier thinking like this. You fuck badly with someone and mess them up a little too much, well, you've only pissed off the God Of Harassment. As long as you help old ladies across the road and gain the good favour of the God of Cardigans And Biscuits And Slippers, you are even. No single entity to keep score on your life as a total and you can mix it up a bit.
Plus, praying can be more fun and far more relevant.
"Please God of Train Timetables, hold that train for 2 more minutes. I'm nearly at the station"
"Please God of My Annoying Colleagues, make a meteor fall on my office while i'm outside for a cigarette"
"Please God of Social Interaction, don't let me make a tit of myself while drunk. Actually, pass this one on to the God of Beer while you're at it. I think he hates me even though I love him"
That sort of thing.
A plug is a handy thing until it lies on its back. Then it becomes a cunt.
I prefer the religious system of the old pagans. The religions where they have Gods for every little thing. Makes far more sense than the single omnipotent God. The God Of Making A Cup Of Tea has been a close personal friend of mine for years. We chat, laugh, joke. He giveth up his juice and I sup heartily at his teat. That kind of thing. Then you get the more scurrilous Gods. The God Of Painting for instance. He is a huge cunt. I rarely see him but whenever I do he makes my life miserable. The God of Drama is another one. She comes and goes in waves. She is pretty busy right now. As long as she isn't looking at me, I enjoy her frilly and turbulent ministrations.
Life is way easier thinking like this. You fuck badly with someone and mess them up a little too much, well, you've only pissed off the God Of Harassment. As long as you help old ladies across the road and gain the good favour of the God of Cardigans And Biscuits And Slippers, you are even. No single entity to keep score on your life as a total and you can mix it up a bit.
Plus, praying can be more fun and far more relevant.
"Please God of Train Timetables, hold that train for 2 more minutes. I'm nearly at the station"
"Please God of My Annoying Colleagues, make a meteor fall on my office while i'm outside for a cigarette"
"Please God of Social Interaction, don't let me make a tit of myself while drunk. Actually, pass this one on to the God of Beer while you're at it. I think he hates me even though I love him"
That sort of thing.
Put it on the table
If you put a table in front of me, I will put something on it. What I put on the table is unimportant but fuck me I will put something on it. I have no idea why I do this and most of the time I don't even realise I am doing it until I look at the table full of bits and pieces of crap. Bits and pieces that were probably not even in my possession until a fucking table appears out of nowhere.
Not 20 minutes ago I moved a little table, that normally lives by the window, in front of me to write a birthday card. It had nothing on it 20 minutes ago. Now it has a laptop, 4 lighters, a mug of tea, 2 pens, 1 ashtray, 3 birthday cards, a shopping list, a packet of rolling papers, a mobile phone, and a roll of sellotape.
All that in 20 minutes. All without realising it.
Not 20 minutes ago I moved a little table, that normally lives by the window, in front of me to write a birthday card. It had nothing on it 20 minutes ago. Now it has a laptop, 4 lighters, a mug of tea, 2 pens, 1 ashtray, 3 birthday cards, a shopping list, a packet of rolling papers, a mobile phone, and a roll of sellotape.
All that in 20 minutes. All without realising it.
I'm quick on my feet when necessary
I've been having quite a lot of underwear related mishaps recently. I have only made that connection by realising that I have told you lot about them all already. Not sure what I shall take from that little snippet but all knowledge has power so maybe it shall become apparent later.
Back to the pants. As ridiculously inane as it seems at this moment, I have mentioned the fact that I bought a load of new underpants recently. I like them. Having nice pants is one of the little seemingly insignificant check points you encounter in everyday life that can make or break your day. I'm not going to go into the other points because I have been dithering for long enough telling you this much, and so to the point.
My pants. I like them, but am still not completely at home in their enveloping confines. We're still working things out you know? I like them, they like me. We're at that "Should I ask her to move in? She spends most nights here anyway?" stage. Not quite 100% sure yet. So, there is me walking down the street today. On my way to some particularly unimpressive event or other when I encounter an uncomfortable feeling. The inside left leg of the trunks has ridden up until it is all wedged right at the top of my gusset (what a fucking word gusset is, marvellously disgusting). After maybe ten or so steps I have come to the conclusion that this is a situation that requires immediate attention. No, I can't wait until I get to wherever I am going. Action is necessary. I look left, then right and realise the only person near me is a woman about 15 feet in front walking in the same direction. Action was necessary and so I unzipped my fly (all on the hoof), reached right inside and grabbed the offensive gathering taking place in my trousers. Then she glanced behind her. Why? I wasn't making any noise. You hadn't looked around in the few minutes I was walking a distance behind you. Why now?
What she saw: A large man walking determinedly behind her with half his arm in his fly as he followed on.
What I realised I looked like: A large man walking determinedly behind a poor woman with half my arm in my fly as I followed her.
What I did: Sprinted toward her before she could make a noise, grabbed her around the mouth and dragged her into an alleyway and raped her. For at least 4 hours.*
*that last bit isn't true
Back to the pants. As ridiculously inane as it seems at this moment, I have mentioned the fact that I bought a load of new underpants recently. I like them. Having nice pants is one of the little seemingly insignificant check points you encounter in everyday life that can make or break your day. I'm not going to go into the other points because I have been dithering for long enough telling you this much, and so to the point.
My pants. I like them, but am still not completely at home in their enveloping confines. We're still working things out you know? I like them, they like me. We're at that "Should I ask her to move in? She spends most nights here anyway?" stage. Not quite 100% sure yet. So, there is me walking down the street today. On my way to some particularly unimpressive event or other when I encounter an uncomfortable feeling. The inside left leg of the trunks has ridden up until it is all wedged right at the top of my gusset (what a fucking word gusset is, marvellously disgusting). After maybe ten or so steps I have come to the conclusion that this is a situation that requires immediate attention. No, I can't wait until I get to wherever I am going. Action is necessary. I look left, then right and realise the only person near me is a woman about 15 feet in front walking in the same direction. Action was necessary and so I unzipped my fly (all on the hoof), reached right inside and grabbed the offensive gathering taking place in my trousers. Then she glanced behind her. Why? I wasn't making any noise. You hadn't looked around in the few minutes I was walking a distance behind you. Why now?
What she saw: A large man walking determinedly behind her with half his arm in his fly as he followed on.
What I realised I looked like: A large man walking determinedly behind a poor woman with half my arm in my fly as I followed her.
What I did: Sprinted toward her before she could make a noise, grabbed her around the mouth and dragged her into an alleyway and raped her. For at least 4 hours.*
*that last bit isn't true
Click
Got up a little late yesterday morning and had a speedy shave that left my face feeling despoiled. Something every man has experienced at some point or another. As luck would have it, one of my colleagues had been having close discussions with Nivea and as a result was sent 4 boxes of Nivea products. I promptly grabbed some post shave balm and was surprised at how it helped as I had never used any product like this before.
I got talking with my boss about this and a nonsensical discussion ensued concerning how much of a pain in the arse it was to have to shave every day. As is the way with discussions of this type a quandary was pronounced and all considered it.
If you could pay a large sum of money, say £10,000, to undergo a procedure that meant you would never have to shave again, would you entertain the idea? Surprisingly, quite a few guys said they would. I don't enjoy scraping my face daily with a blade but £10,000 is a lot of cash. There is also the masochistic joy of waking up the morning after the night before and feeling like shit. Having to put on yesterdays crumpled clothes in a strange house, lighting a cigarette despite your throat screaming at you to do anything other than that, and rubbing your hand across your face and feeling a scratchy covering of whiskers. You only look and feel like shit because you threw caution to the wind the night before. The wages of hedonism are hangovers. That was my contribution to the discussion anyway but it did get me thinking along the same lines.
Stupid propositions I would consider:
1. Paying a large sum of money to have the ability to click your fingers and instantly appear at a single pre arranged place.
I like this one. It may not seem so attractive a proposal now while you read this at your computer but being somewhere you don't want to be and being able to navigate the problem by simply clicking your fingers sounds great to me. Needing a cab at 4am and can't find one? Click. Being at a friends house that is at least 2 hours away and needing to go through the fucking hassle of up, out, train, bus, home? Click. Being arrested and placed in jail? Click.
Her: "I've been thinking, we've been friends for a while and I want to take this relationship to the next level. What do you think?"
Me: Click.
Sounds like a fucking winner to me
2. Paying a large sum of money to have the ability to make others internal thoughts audible to all regardless of their wishes. All at the click of your fingers.
Again this one needs a little imagination. Having a chat with the boss about the wage increase you've been wanting for ages:
Boss: "Well, we think that if you can just try that bit harder in the next 6 months you will definitely be in line for a pay increase
Me: Click
Boss: *Give me yet more of your precious life, I shall wring more blood from your weary corpse for the pleasure of another £50 a month.*
I would also take great joy in sitting in on any discussion between two or more ultra PC people and clicking my fingers like I was part of a travelling flamenco troupe.
Person 1: "I honestly believe that implementing these rulings will have a positive impact on how we treat fellow human beings"
Me: Click
Person 1 again: *I hate all niggers, jews, pakis and gyppos but think I can climb the ladder faster this way*
Marvellous
I have others and will add them when my hangover recedes a little.
If you want to play along, all propositions MUST INVOLVE THE CLICKING OF FINGERS. Any propositions without this will be instantly discounted.
I got talking with my boss about this and a nonsensical discussion ensued concerning how much of a pain in the arse it was to have to shave every day. As is the way with discussions of this type a quandary was pronounced and all considered it.
If you could pay a large sum of money, say £10,000, to undergo a procedure that meant you would never have to shave again, would you entertain the idea? Surprisingly, quite a few guys said they would. I don't enjoy scraping my face daily with a blade but £10,000 is a lot of cash. There is also the masochistic joy of waking up the morning after the night before and feeling like shit. Having to put on yesterdays crumpled clothes in a strange house, lighting a cigarette despite your throat screaming at you to do anything other than that, and rubbing your hand across your face and feeling a scratchy covering of whiskers. You only look and feel like shit because you threw caution to the wind the night before. The wages of hedonism are hangovers. That was my contribution to the discussion anyway but it did get me thinking along the same lines.
Stupid propositions I would consider:
1. Paying a large sum of money to have the ability to click your fingers and instantly appear at a single pre arranged place.
I like this one. It may not seem so attractive a proposal now while you read this at your computer but being somewhere you don't want to be and being able to navigate the problem by simply clicking your fingers sounds great to me. Needing a cab at 4am and can't find one? Click. Being at a friends house that is at least 2 hours away and needing to go through the fucking hassle of up, out, train, bus, home? Click. Being arrested and placed in jail? Click.
Her: "I've been thinking, we've been friends for a while and I want to take this relationship to the next level. What do you think?"
Me: Click.
Sounds like a fucking winner to me
2. Paying a large sum of money to have the ability to make others internal thoughts audible to all regardless of their wishes. All at the click of your fingers.
Again this one needs a little imagination. Having a chat with the boss about the wage increase you've been wanting for ages:
Boss: "Well, we think that if you can just try that bit harder in the next 6 months you will definitely be in line for a pay increase
Me: Click
Boss: *Give me yet more of your precious life, I shall wring more blood from your weary corpse for the pleasure of another £50 a month.*
I would also take great joy in sitting in on any discussion between two or more ultra PC people and clicking my fingers like I was part of a travelling flamenco troupe.
Person 1: "I honestly believe that implementing these rulings will have a positive impact on how we treat fellow human beings"
Me: Click
Person 1 again: *I hate all niggers, jews, pakis and gyppos but think I can climb the ladder faster this way*
Marvellous
I have others and will add them when my hangover recedes a little.
If you want to play along, all propositions MUST INVOLVE THE CLICKING OF FINGERS. Any propositions without this will be instantly discounted.
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