Positive Boredom

It's Over

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 20:49:00 +0000

I hope you've enjoyed some of the ride, I just get travel sickness easily

...and I'm about to vomit.

Winding #7: Winding Up

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 20:48:00 +0000

Just to cover up some loose ends, to stop me from being easily lured back to this and all, here's some of the ideas(roughly 75%) that I was thinking of doing in the near future:

The battle to get a table at the fancy chippers in Knock years ago
6th birthday party battle against friend's 7th on same day, he had bouncing castle, I had moutainloads of ashes and a violent, chained dog.
Going to removal to figure out who dead person is, condolences, stuck front row, repeatedly standing up when shaking hands to try and gaze into coffin,
Conversation with intelligent girl, pink nails, cannot take her seriously. "Probably male equivalent of me, I wear the same clothes I did when I was 4 too"
Dad and Uncle kneeling at grave, stay there for hours trying to win over dead parents to their side by saying more prayers, dad wins by launching into "Our lady of Lourdes/Fatima/Knock/Shanghai/Antartica/Mars/etc, pray for us", written like wrestling match commentary, "our lady of..."=submission hold.
Product slogans, "beat the 11am slump, the morning slump, the friday slump, the wednesday slump". "is the energy bar marketed at the sunday morning slump targeted solely at priests?"
Primary sick notes, basic things "Was sick today". Secondary, more complex, "had influenza". College, deranged, "here's a receipt for some medicine I bought, unfortunately some ink spilt all over the receipt and destroyed the exact point where the receipts date is... the shop it's bought from isn't shut either, it's a different one, in cork, you can check in google if you like, there should be videotape evidence of me at some point."
Stop having all relatives at weddings, Send out quiz to all potential wedding invites about you and spouse, have to get at least 50% of questions right to get invite.
Met hideous person who looks IDENTICAL to mirror me, excuses for why mirror me somehow looks miles better, yet is identical.
Teenage disco, tribal theme, why to find someone ASAP,
why losing well always beats winning, parental advice,
"I can loiter outside the library, I KNOW BOOKS!"
old women fishing, and drowning, in the fish freezer
pathetic girl trying to be "bad"
allergy testing in herb shop, walk in door, sneeze "oh you're allergic to something here" proceed to wave each product in front of persons nose
"robert deniro done taxi jobs throught new york for taxi driver/always big method actor fan, still is"/"even analyse that?"/"yeah... funny thing about that one, he actually dragged his therapist into the drug industry and all, still in jail."
1984 homage, me disgusted by internet, submerged in it, (genuinely funnier than it sounds, wound up being too big though)
welfare day, drunkards at 10am, ran outta money on the Monday, queued outside shop to get cigarettes, person at checkout thinks they cant serve til 12, "war breaks out... well actually it doesn't cos they're all overgrown children being fed by the state, closer to 10 grown men standing at the counter crying, pointing at the cigarettes saying "WAHHH! I WANT THE GOLD ONES!"
welfare day, hesitant shopper(ALWAYS responsible girl from knacker family, her mother let her raise siblings from young age, hard worker but by adolescent was desperate for people to like her, f*cked some fella and had 8 children in one go, one of which winds up being the responsible one, circle of life), all travel together, spend ages deciding which biscuits to buy, one treat of ruined life, more character study than ha ha.
welfare day, old women, meeting each other throughout store, upon reaching final aisle there's 30 of them, always asking each other the exact same things.
health inspector, inquisition. "antyhing wrong with place" try to not sound overly positive so "nothing, asides from the owner whos a bitch" gets back
pampers crazy variances in nappies, recognise baby on cover, one for each baby, smile frown etc "Ach how did you not know these are the ones my babby takes, there's his picture on the cover for chrissake"

Here's some of the newer images I had planned on placing in back early May.

Winding #7: Tweets and the like

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 23:01:00 +0000

went to work wearing nothing but Deep Riverrock,apparently it isn't a valid substitute for clothes. "Water you wear" my arse.
managed to get pneumonia again, Christ knows how many times that is now... is there any sort of career I could get from the skill? Join a freak show and cough a lot?
just tried out some Twinings tea, now firmly believes that @StephenFry commits just as much self abuse now as in his suicidal days.
Dr Phil, an upper class Ricki/Maury talking to the the upper class prostitutes/freaks/mad people.
is there an unwritten rule that only females are allowed stack tampons?
wonders when Mike Leigh is gonna decide to go all out and make a porn movie.
wants to find some freak to make a documentary about... then arrange for someone to make a documentary about my deranged attempt to make a documentary, that'd sell.
can you perm a moustache?
ate a single rice krispie for lunch purely cos he thought it'd be an unusual thing to say
is trying to find out how cheap a bed in auschwitz concentration camp would be for the summer
my head is after so far stuck up my own arse that it's being digested
"What would I do if I were in government? I'd resign!" wow Jeff Randall, sold yourself really well there, what f*cking help would that be?
good afternoon all, i had meningitis. but i slept for 14 hours yesterday to get rid of it so it's gone now
russell brand would have a bland twitter.All he'd put in the What Are You Currently Doing? bit is some girls name..a new one every half hour
've finally started taken medication, prescribed medication... lets ignore the fact it wasn't for me though, it'll do the job
bets are open for when I stop supporting man city, 2/1 favourite is when they spend £7625billion to resurrect george best and de-age him to spite united
I wonder if a journalist putting "The Watchtower" and "Awake" down as places he worked on his CV would cause a negative reaction
look at the critical indifference! Eddie Murphy's best film in years surely http://www.imdb.com/title/t...
When people are "high" is it because they're so shallow at that point, they're gone above ground level?
Why isn't anyone liveblogging playTV on tv3 each night?
Anyone else find a blocked nostril causes your whole body to go off balance for weeks? ...or have I just got the worst balance known to man
It's all these arthouse films, they're wrecking my brain, I can't look in straight angles at anthing anymore cos I think it's "bad direction"
I'll make a soliloquy for every bathroom utensil yet. "Oh dead shower head, how doth you get dirtieth when thou doth be a cleaning machine"
Idea for facebook application: "What kind of facebook application are you?"
I'm unwilling to delete an blank giant paint file because I made it on the day I got this computer,my sentimental hoarding is gone overboard
Why is it that I'm overcome with rage when the subtitles for a song in a non English film rhyme better than the gibberish they're speaking
I cannot see the laptop screen cos my super pale face is reflecting on it, wish I was black.
walk to shop,pay for,bring back home,take out of box+insert dvd into laptop to be greeted by 5min of anti-piracy crap,I wish i downloaded it
"rustlers: one finger food", how lazy is their demograph exactly?
i think i broke a tooth on a jaffa cake there... bloody tesco discount price ones!
well for a nymphomaniac, isn't every obsession a fetish? (Don't ask me what that means)
I made a suit outta things I found in the attic, the date was not impressed, I said she was lucky I even cut my hair, she said I should've gotten someone else to do that for me, I said f*ck off, she said fine, I said I'll have a shot of whiskey
...and that's how I done a backflip in rhythm to Galway Girl.

That's pretty much every tweet I've done, that is.

Winding #6

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 01:15:00 +0000

This is basically being stolen from Andrew, I guess.

Since this recession got into full flow with the whole bank crisis thing, I've been on a one man pursuit to save several products that I deemed to be hopeless cases from being killed off. This includes anything with at least one of the following:

Terribly bland packaging that I've never seen before
Packaging that hasn't changed since the early 90s(eg. Spick n'Span dustcloths)
Faded packaging due to being around so long
Doesn't actually state what the f*ck it is(eg. "Krzypopsk" Has a picture of an old woman hoovering, is in the middle of the tinned food aisle)
Things for old people(cos they're the cheapest and are being replaced by new young old people who don't like the old old things cos they are newer and want the new old things)

The last one, in particular, has led me into some sort of crazy crusade to save Worther's Oringals. When I was young, they were the old person's sweet, now they're the old old person's sweet and their market must be dropping like flies. I haven't seen anyone eat one in years so I have this excessive fear that they will not survive the economic downturn. In olden days, the ads used to be trying for some sort of grandfather to grandchild transition of the product, I think it failed miserably cos of some paedophile connotation or something(along with being a sh!t idea of course)... now, they don't even have a new market to target for them or anything.
So I decided to do as much as I can to save the Werther's Original, I placed them everywhere in the shop, got rid of all sorts of products to make room for them. Asides from destroying the shop's rep, driving away customers by dropping them into baskets and putting the store into a somewhat troublesome financial position, I've had very little impact with my efforts.

The odd thing is that I've never ate one though.

UPDATE: This has since gotten miles worse, I'm eating nothing but awful types of crap that I'm sometimes not even entirely sure whether they're food or not. Absolutely incapable of criticisng them to anyone because I feel like my abusive words would single-handedly be responsible for the company's death.

Winding #5

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 01:12:00 +0000

SOUND: phone ringing

RECEIVER
Hello.

DIALER
Hello, would you like to receive some happiness?

RECEIVER
What?

DIALER
We also offer a removal of sadness and general condolences, if you would prefer that?

RECEIVER
Hmm, yeah, sure. Outta curiousity, how much are you charging for "happiness"?

DIALER
Oh no price, nothing at all, it's free!

RECEIVER
Who on earth are you?

DIALER
Oh, we're the Samaratans. It's been a bit of a quiet day, so I thought I'd call a few people to see if they needed help.

RECEIVER
Jesus man(!), what if someone actually needs help?

DIALER
Oh they won't, ever since they stopped the telly adverts for us, we've been getting no calls. The only good thing about this was cheering people up, now it's just a room of people who've spent the last few years spending their free time listening to people threatening to killing themselves and transferring their burdens onto us.

SOUND: fades out and fades back in

DIALER
Thanks a million for listening to me, really cheered me up.

RECEIVER
No problem, just promise that you won't think of killing yourself again.

DIALER
I won't, thank you!

Winding #4

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 00:30:00 +0000

THERE ARE SOME DESKS(MINIMUM 2, CAPABLE OF BEING USED BY TWO PEOPLE ON ONE SIDE) AND SEVERAL CHAIRS ON THE STAGE. AT ONE DESK(CENTRE STAGE) IS ALAN, HE IS FACING THE AUDIENCE WITH A LARGE NUMBER OF BOOKS IN FRONT OF HIM, INITIALLY BLOCKING HIS FACE FROM THE AUDIENCE. PLAY BEGINS WITH SEVERAL SECONDS SILENCE, FOLLOWED BY TOM STUMBLING ACROSS THE STAGE AND KNOCKING OVER THE BOOKS. ALAN IS UNPHASED AND SCRIBBLING FURIOUSLY INTO A NOTEPAD.

TOM: [Picking up books] Jesus man, sorry, thought I saw someone over there. [Looks at ALAN] Hey, we done a project together earlier this year?
ALAN: [Without looking up] Don’t think so.
TOM: I’m sure you were in our group… don’t remember?
ALAN: [Still writing] Done mine alone.
TOM: Yeah, that’s what you done. We arranged a meeting and all, you came along, said something like “I don’t want any of you ruining this project, I’ll do it all” and stormed out. Thought you were fecking mental, done a good job though.
ALAN: [Looks up] …you got points for it?
TOM: Yep, full marks and all, thanks a million for that man. [Pause] Okay if I sit there? [Points towards vacant seat at Alan’s desk]
ALAN: [Resumes studying, warily] Go ahead.

TOM SITS AND PROCEEDS TO TAKE OUT NUMEROUS UNTENSILS FROM HIS BAG UNTIL EMPTY, NONE OF WHICH ARE COURSE RELATED. STARTS LOOKING IN TOWARDS THE BOOK ALAN IS READING, ALAN GRADUALLY GETS AGITATED. ALAN EVENTUALLY SLAMS THE BOOK SHUT AND GLARES DIRECTLY AT TOM.

TOM: So… what’re we studying then?
ALAN: We?
TOM: Yeah, you just said we could.
ALAN: Nope, said you could sit down there, didn’t say anything about being Study Buddies.
TOM: Meaning “Can I study with you?” Shur the place is empty, why else would I want to sit beside someone else when I could get a full desk for myself?
ALAN: Dunno, just thought you didn’t wanna risk having an empty seat beside you is all.
TOM: What?
ALAN: Like y’know sometimes you’d decide it’s better to sit in beside someone who looks okay before the place fills up?
TOM: [Pause, confused] Not with you.
ALAN: …in case you wind up having some prick beside you later when it fills up? [TOM stares blankly at ALAN, He groans and resumes] It happens loadsa times, have a look around you the next time you’re on public transport. No matter how empty it is, you’ll see that the most pleasant, friendliest, nicest looking person on it will have something like Rain Man beside them.
TOM: Well, I’m not Rain Man, was diagnosed with A.D.D. when I was younger.
ALAN: What has that to do with anything?
TOM: Rain Man was autistic, right? ...so the A.D.D. would cancel out any Autism I could get.
ALAN: I don’t think it works that way.
TOM: Sure it does, there used to be a little one of those Rain Men in my school and he used to stand there all day in the hall just banging this fecking door. [Thumps table in unison, large breaks between words] Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, B-
ALAN: [Grabs TOM’s hand, Interrupting] Shush-sh, what’s the banging about?
TOM: Well he’d have to be fairly bloody focused, he would be, banging all day like that for years. Attention Surplus Disorder, that’s what that is.
ALAN: Not sure about that, although I understand what you’re say- what the f*ck am I doing?! If I let you study with me, will you shut up?
TOM: Sure thing.
ALAN: Right, what'll we study?
TOM: What is there to study?
ALAN: [Confused with reply] Um, we could study philosophy, since it's closest and all.
TOM: What is philosophy?
ALAN: Really? It's one of our modules.
TOM: What is a module?
ALAN: [Raised voice, angry] It's a subject, a subject, which we study, for this course, a subject.
TOM: Ah but are we not studying many subjects all at once in the giant course of life?
ALAN: [Sharply] Fine, we'll do something else. Math?
TOM: What is math?
ALAN: It's something you're gonna fail if we have to start that far into the basics.
TOM: [Grinning] Calm down man, was just being "philosophical" s'all. Sure that's all there is to it, easy.
ALAN: [Wryly] You'll have no problem with philosophy… so math?
TOM: Sure.
ALAN: Math it is!
TOM: Math it is, ma-tit-is, mat-it-is, mat-hit-is.
ALAN: [Moaning]What now?
TOM: Awkward to say, isn't it? Like Hit [Pause] Ler.
ALAN: Hit [longer pause] Ler?
TOM: Yes, Hit [Pause] Ler, say it any faster and it comes out wrong. Hiccler, Hit-cler, Hit-eh-ler.
ALAN: Hit [Long Pause] Ler, Hit [Pause] Ler, Hit [slight pause] Ler, Hickler. Dammit! Shush, study, study, study.

ALAN GRABS THE MATH BOOK, OPENS IT AND BEGINS SCRIBBLING. TOM STARTS STARING OVER ALAN'S SHOULDER AGAIN.

TOM: Not gonna get out your books?
ALAN: Don't have any.
TOM: What's in that bag then? It's packed!

ALAN SLOWLY PRODUCES FLASK, CUP AND LUNCHBOX FROM BAG.

TOM: Why'd you bring all that?
ALAN: The prices in the canteen are insane, so I said "If I'm gonna be here all day, may as well bring some food with me" Fancy a cup of tea?
TOM: No thanks.
ALAN: I've got more than one cup and all, it's no problem serious!
TOM: I'm fine.
ALAN: Coffee? Soup? Tea, I've got 3 different kinds?
TOM: It's okay, really.
ALAN: Instant curry? Complan?
TOM: …yet no books? Really? Seriously?
ALAN: Not a one. Why?
TOM: It's an awful lot of food to bring isn't it? I mean, are you planning on studying or eating? Look at all I bring for the day [Takes a box of energy bars out of his bag]
ALAN: [Pause] That all?
TOM: Yep, and that's absolutely everything I need for the day. Read that [Hands over and points at box]
ALAN: "Calories 20%, Sugars 20%, Fat 20%, Saturates 20%, Salt 20%," and it just goes on and on like that. "of an adult's daily guideline amount"
TOM: Pack of 5, so 5 of them a day is the exact amount of nutrition I need each day. I've got it down to a tee with my daily timetable; got my day planned out so well that I've been using every drop of energy from each bar, haven't had to take a toilet break in a week.
ALAN: Jeez, I don't think that's the way you're supposed to use those bars. Want me to mix you up a smoothie in my blender now? I'll go find somewhere to plug it in.

ETC...

Winding #3

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 02:48:00 +0000

I've always had this terrible fear of dying, not because of the actual dying, but the extremely critical self-evaluation I'd give myself while dying. Running through my biggest regrets and how much I messed things up.

That fear is not going to bother me any more, no Sir E Bob(whoever he is), I've started taking action against it. I'm gonna make sure that I regret every second of my life from this point on, that way if the moment ever comes, I'll be too busy trying to decide what my biggest regrets are to properly hate myself.

Winding #1

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 21:29:00 +0000

Recently the owner of my supermarket(not my supermarket obviously, that'd mean I was the owner and I'm referencing myself in multiple ways, the shop is not in my head, it is real, I don't do everything other people there...) finally gave up on the notion that people are mostly good and moved the weighing scales over to the checkouts, where they'll be under constant supervision.

Now it's only been moved a few feet, it's still beside the Veggies and all, but it's caused a f*cking uproar. All this week there's been people coming up to me attacking me.
Customer: Excuse me, why did yous move the weighing scales?
Me: Well it's much the same reason as everywhere else.
Customer: Which is?
Me: It was too easy for people to weigh things lighter than what they were buying; weigh it without putting it fully down on the scales, adding some more bananas into the bag afterwards, whatever.
Customer: Ah that's nonsense!
Me: Really? Hmph, Seriously?
Customer: Of course, no one would steal like that.
Me: Why not?
Customer: Hmmm, agh, they just wouldn't.
Me: Why not?
Customer: eh... hmmm... it's too easy!
Me: Too easy?
Customer: Yeah, too easy, suspiciously easy,
Me: *raised eyebrow*
Customer: Anyways, look at the awful public place you put the scales, everyone can see it now.
Me: Like I said, that was the idea.
Customer: b-b-but it used to be nice and private, now everyone can see you.
Me: So it should be moved back to the corner, because you don't want other people to see your vegetables?
Customer: yes
Me: ...and their weights?
Customer: yes.
Me: Uh. Huh.
Customer: I wasn't f*cking stealing!
Me: Never said you were.

Winding #2

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 20:32:00 +0000

There stacking the meat shelves, hear this annoying f*cking conversation going on.

"What shall we get for dinner tomorrow?"
"Oh, whatever is fine."
"Agh, I'll have anything that suits, I'm not too picky"
"I like all the same things, anything's grand"
"I can't choose, it's all good"
...and it goes on and on and on

Some people find conversations like that really annoying, the fella stacking the meat was certainly an awful lot more annoyed than usual about me talking to myself anyways.

They Didn't

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 23:12:00 +0000

I wonder did any priests back before the whole Renaissance and all ever play poker or something with different levels of relics and indulgences.

Cardinal #1: "I see your St Peter's Basilica, and I raise you this set of indulgences by the Pope himself to the value of a full rosary"
Cardinal #2: "Everyone knows the Pope doesn't even know the most basic prayers, attacked a local recently shouting "it's "some men", or just "men", not a men"... doubt he even knows of the rosary!"
Cardinal #1: "Fine, fine, I'm all out. However(!), I can give you my personal assurance that the holy grail will be yours if it is found by the current Pope. He owes me his life for getting him outta a little predicament with some prostitutes a few years back."
Cadrinal #2: "I knew that was true!"
Cardinal #1: "Sure how d'you think I became a Cardinal? Used to be a pimp."

Got a wee bit carried away there with the dialogue, I reckon... and please ignore factual inaccuracies.
That's another crude drawing from the weekend, that P was meant to be a J, but I got confused. Drew out a whole deck but that one and Jesus were the only ones which looked like the people involved(that's Padre Pio), the Jesus one had him on a crucifix and looked kinda tasteless(It had "K[of the Jews]" scribbled into the corners).

King Of Carrot F***ers

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 21:26:00 +0000

They hadn't a chance together from the day they were planted into the ground by the gods. Too close to each other, they grew up to be Siamese carrots. Even the carrots of the underground knew that this was a bad thing, a sure fire way to become a second class carrot. The God's did not like these ones, always favouring the more attractive carrots.

In recent times, the god's even gained the ability to stamp out the regularity of flawed carrots that the ones with problems became an even further suppressed minority... it was even made law by the gods that the irregulars could never make it as far as the sacrificial shelf.
The sacrifice shelf is where carrots are placed up for selection to be sent to the heaven vehicles... almost all of the carrots which make it far get into the heaven vehicles and are heated up til their souls evaporate to carrot heaven.
The Siamese carrots of this story were to be sent somewhere else entirely. Rather than soar to the heavens in high temperatures, they would be chopped to pieces and frozen to death instead.

Their only hope rested on a revolution similar to the Great Organic Uprising of the 90s, in which a group of desperately weak carrots managed to create propaganda for the god's which damned the perfect carrots for their use of performance enhancing drugs. In a matter of years, the Organics became Kings of Carrotdom.
The Gods were only willing to accept the perfect, flawed carrots... basically identical to the perfect ones, but with a hippie haircut.

This has led to bitterness within the Organic camp and left the uglies with the outside possibility of a revolution leading them to heaven.

...that's exactly what happened. The Organics propaganda plan never seemed to stop, and eventually, after growing paranoia, the gods allowed the uglies, the amputees and the just-plain-sh!ts onto the shelves, just in time for our Siamese friends.
Amongst the first of their kind to be put on the sacrifice shelf, they were cut away from their lifesource in the ground to undertake the long journey to the heavens.

Upon arrival, tired from their journey and with no means of recovery, they were picked up by the shelf's slave and placed down for anyone to pick them up and finish the process.
...except a matter of seconds after being put down, the slave picked them up again. He proceeded to try and force them down to the bottom, but the twins could not lie down flat. After several more attempts, he grabbed each twin with a full hand and ripped them apart. As they both shared a piece of each others heads, one of them died instantly, his brain being halved by the break up.
The other, so sad to see his brother gone, proceeded to cry, he cried and cried and cried til the point that he was so badly dried up that he was simply disposed of, to eventually die in either a rat or one of those poor people who root through the bins.

I have never read over this, it's been typed out just now after me doodling while entertaining guests a few hours ago. Scanner isn't working so photos are crap, sorry bout that.
...I still like the core idea, and the carrot rows.

Thanks

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 19:58:00 +0000

Michael Jackson,
Your death was rather sad and all, got a bit annoying after that, has started to quieten now and will probably be long forgotten by the time I post this but I would like to thank you for dying.
Your death has filled a big gap in my heart, somehow the excessive radio play of your songs has spread so far now that it's even gone to supermarket radio, and it's not just the big hits. For some reason the supermarkets have decided that they partially hold the duty of mourning by playing the Best of the Jackson 5, Off The Wall, Thriller, Bad and HIStory(which is actually okay) all day long. This is a wonderful improvement over the usual Alanis Morrisettes who all seem to base their songs around one line they think is intelligent(eg. "I miss you like the desert misses the rain"X238904092749 are the lyrics for one song... can't remember any others now, maybe I will), rather similar to me with this blog so!
So yeah, thanks for filling the void left by Gary Barlow, I'll miss your music when everyone else stops missing you.
B
PS. Pass the letter on to Quincy

Why did you do this to me?

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 23:12:00 +0000

You used to speak in such a determined, buoyant tone. You used to be so uplifting.
With your hopeful words in your beautiful voice, you kept me going through all the difficult times.

Why did you have to change? The new words of inspiration which you utter seem forced and lacking. Refusing to even repeat the great ones from the past, you appear to be a broken man.

So tell me, Gary Barlow, why on earth did you release such a terrible album?
...and why, why in the name of Christ, did you decide to not let supermarkets play the older songs any more?

Maybe Opening My Mouth Will Make It End

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 17:23:00 +0000

This is an atrociously long set of tennis, going on and on forever... it's gonna end with someone quitting due to injury(blisters on the soles of their feet making it impossible to continue) and that's gonna lead to a long campaign of adverts about the importance of good sports socks.

END!!

Alcohol(y) Trinity

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 23:15:00 +0000

Thursdays are brilliant round here. Well, they're actually absolute hell for me but for the general populace around here, it's a great day, like a giant party... it's welfare day, y'see.

One thing which generally occurs when you're doing nothing long term is that you fall into a ridiculously strict schedule. So every Thursday, I get to see the exact same things happen as every week before that.

The best example of this is the old bachelors. This does not mean every old bachelor, rather a special trio. They all look the same, combed hair, in a suit and all that, would be counted as very well dressed were it not for the fact that they gave up on the idea of ever changing clothes around the same time as they gave up on meeting a woman. Each one begins their journey into the town at about 6am in the morning, I walk by two of them on the way into the shop. Gradually, they'll work their way into the post office to be there for opening time and collect their pensions. At ten, they all appear at the door of the supermarket, being this close makes each one instantly distance themselves from the rest, one of them going to the checkout, another to the off-license, the third stands still.
The third fella is a strong believer in the old fashioned style of supermarket where the shopkeeper handed everything to you. The smell off of them works as a siren for attracting whoever is in charge to serve him.

All three buy the exact same thing;

2 pints of Monaghan milk(rather than a considerably cheaper litre),
loaf of Pat the Baker bread,
package of McVities Digestives
...and
2 Fyffes bananas.

They refuse to ever specify the brands, but if you get the wrong ones, each of them will go completely bonkers.
"What's that? I wanted bloody Digestives!"
"Which brand though?"
"Digestives! F*cking Digestives!"
"There's no such brand, sir"
*Also have to save some Fyffes stickers at all times under the weighing machine just in case they pop in and there's another brand.

Anyways after finishing at the shop, they'll each wander off to a different pub. There's three in the town so it's okay, last year there was another fella alive and it always resulted into a bit of a battle, like a weird, super slow and ridiculously complex version of musical chairs... the one who didn't get a pub had to go home.
Once in the pubs, they'll get absolutely pissed, drinking away as much of the pension as the barmen will allow them too.

I'm usually on my lunch break when they finally get thrown out of their respective pubs. -For my lunch, which is at most 15 minutes long, I just rush away from the shop so no one can bother me and eat about 5 of those super energy bar things that look like giant blocks of feces with bits of poorly digested porridge- My old regular resting point was on a bench at one corner of a T-junction. On another side there's checkout and at the 3rd side there's off license... checkout always stares drunkenly over at off license and off license stared over at me... took me some time to realise he was actually looking over at old fashioned, who was standing creepily close behind me.
Started having my teeny break at slightly differing times each week to see what the next step was in their little game.
Here it is, in dodgy image form:

The different coloured lines mark different periods where they lights let them cross the road. The numbers represent each one of them.
The short lines the same colour as the numbers represent where they came from.
The blue line marks the start of the road crossing situation. Number 3 moves across to number 1's side, which immediately sets number one on his journey to get away from 3. Next up is the gray line, where number 2 goes directly to the pub which 3 was in. This leaves 1 capable of going across, at the next red light, to 2's former pub.

I'm not quite sure why they work so hard to avoid each other, they all live terribly lonely lives, at the very least, they could have some drinking buddies that way... but something completely stupid must've happened about a million years ago which made them all fall out, now they've forgotten what it was and are incapable of making up.

Bit of a waste of time considering in a few hours they've poured their whole pension into their stomach in alcohol form, and are singing songs together outside the shop, together, as if they were my best friends... their one hour or so of companionship each week.

I still think these miserable gits aren't worthy of a full pension, but always leaves me smiling anyway... much better than wasting their pensions gradually over the week, to lead to seven miserable drunken walks home.

Amazing title, eh? No? Okay.

An Actual Post With Words And Lies And Substance And Whatnot

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 06:57:00 +0000

On a curriculum vitae I filled out during the college year for some job applications, I had some trouble trying to come up with things to put on my "achievements" section. Unfortunately, achievements are one thing I'm kinda lacking in, even for my age. In my desperation to come up with ones, I included the slightly jokey, 100% serious entry of "Sober every Sunday morning shift Oct 07-Aug 08".

While something makes me think all my potential employers went "...but what about the other 6 days?" they should've been acknowledging how big of an achievement that is. EVERYONE is pissed outta their skulls, everyone, that is, except me.
Work starts at 9am, but most people aren't in til half. Every last one of them comes in, zombielike, with a terrible mixture of sweat and alcohol... the girls looking lovely with last nights makeup smeared all over their faces.

They're generally not at hangover point just yet, moreso sleepy drunk. So there's no bad moods or landmines walking about just yet. They are all terribly useless though, even incapable of communication.
That is to say, incapable of proper communication, they do, however, make sure to learn off the following conversation.
"How was last night?"
"Oh I got absolutely hammered last night, must've drank X pints/glasses of Y"
Doesn't work too well with the customers though.
"Excuse me, is there anyway operating the checkout?"
"Oh I got absolutely hammered last night, must've drank X pints/glasses of Y"
"That's all well and good, but are you supposed to be operating the till?"
"How was last night?"
"What're you on about? Get someone to serve me!"
"Eh, um, how was last n-"
"You said that!"
"Oh I got absolutely hammered last night, must've drank X pints/glasses of Y"
"Jesus Christ, I'm leaving, getting out now, saying it because you cannot see it... what with being blind from drink(and to make it visible to readers)"

Yep, overall, the majority of them aren't very useful. Not sure if the shop is accommodating this fact or not, but work on Sundays is always easy, peasy, lemon, squeezey... which is just as well because I've to do quite a lot of the work. Also has to be completed within a strict time limit because around 11am, the staff begin to get a bit cranky, be it from dehydration, exhaustion or, most commonly, the realisation it was an extremely crappy, rather pricey night out in one of Longford's esteemed nightclubs where there's always the scarily high likelihood that anyone you meet may be related to you... they're generally super mad on mornings after that happens.

So I was thinking about putting it down like this in CVs from now on

Achievements:
Sober For Every Sunday Morning Shift: Being the only sober person working on Sunday mornings, I had a large number of responsibilities to undertake. With no help, asides from the slight assistance of several drunken employees who followed me as if I was the Pied Piper of hungover Longfordinians, I had to complete these tasks alone.

The Nerve

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 00:41:00 +0000

MyUndesiredName (01:39:06): i've a cousin called Tony

MyUndesiredName (01:39:19): been in his house hundreds of times

MyUndesiredName (01:39:22): never seen him

MyUndesiredName (01:39:27): not even in a photo

MyUndesiredName (01:39:37): i reckon my aunt invented him

MyUndesiredName (01:39:48): in her mind, not her womb or whatever

(This is a cop out as the post I actually had for here seems legally risky, potential GBH and all)
I see it somehow didn't post on the scheduled date, what on earth's that about?

Drafting

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 04:39:00 +0000

Customer: Excuse me, excuse me!
Me: Yeah?
Customer: I was just going in to buy this *waves offer leaflet*, but I can't see it on sale in here.
Me: Ohhh, that's because the company's currently only producing 100% extra free packages.
Customer: Sure... why'd they advertise this 2-for-1 offer then?
Me: Must've been short notice or something.
Customer: I can't use this offer? Typical of you to be fleecing us for all we're worth in the recession.
Me: You're getting the same as 2-for-1 anyway, 100% extra free!
Customer: ...no, I want 2 for the price of 1. That's 2 packages.
Me: but they'd be each half the size.
Customer: Why?
Me: because they wouldn't have the 100% extra free.
Customer: What on earth are you on about?
Me: 100% extra free, is the same as a full pack-
Customer: *sigh, walks off*

5 Min Later
Customer: I was just talking to the manager and they say that the voucher will work.
Me: Hmph, must have the same barcode as the originals. Normally they give a different one, sorry bout that.
Customer: No need to make up excuses, just don't be so certain of yourself when you're wrong. Lord knows, with this recession, the last thing we need is people causing us to spend more money.
Me: That's exactly what we do need though.
Customer: Little brat, I wasn't even rude.
Me: No, no, you weren't, I know that. It's just that the biggest problem with the economy, every economy, is a lack of faith, people aren't spending money which results in less money going through the economy which is needed to cause economic growth.
Customer: You're probably having everything bought for you by mammy and daddy, telling us all to spend as much as possible, we'd starve. Sure what would you know?
Me: Asides from basic economic theory, not a lot.
Customer: I was nice, just wanted to warn you about your error. You won't be seeing me round here again.
Me: I'm sorry.
Customer: So you admit to being wrong?
Me: No, I'm right.
Customer: About what?
Me: I dunno.
Customer: You used to be a lot more tolerant, this is no fun. *leaves*

New Blog

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 18:24:00 +0000

I've started a new, more personal blog. With any luck, it'll stop me putting whinging rants here by allowing me to do more detailed ones elsewhere. It's private so you'll have to ask me for an invite via email. Once I don't know you, I've no problem granting you access.

This ones not dying just yet by any means, although I can't imagine daily/good posts to be returning any time soon.

Hopefully some of you have a high level of tolerance and'll ask for an invite outta politeness, thanks.

Words and Stuff

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 04:51:00 +0000

Follow the decline of Jordan's page 3 career she had to find some new way of staying in the papers. So she married some random person she met on television and had annual babies to keep her place in all those magazines.
After Kerry Katona's divorce thing all died down, she decided to alternate between stories of how great a mother she is and stories about how she's addicted to drugs(culminating with her turning up pissed on This Morning) to keep her place in the magazines.

Then suddenly, one day they both lost their jobs as media whores when MAx Clifford got the whole Jade Goody dying thing which took up all the space for Jordan, Kerry Katona and the Loose Women women.
After that died down, Jordan and her husband both agreed to split up to generate a bit of media buzz, meanwhile Kerry Katona had to engage some sort of tax fraud(?).

So I was thinking will we ever get to a day where the two of them will have to take a page outta, international media-whore, Lindsay Lohan's book and become "lesbians", marrying each other. The magazine cover was all too easy to imagine; looking remarkably similar to the artwork of Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band,

the crazy colouring scheme would be the exact same at their tacky wedding clothing scheme,
all the other people in the photo being their former husbands and children(although this potentially means Peter Andre would be where someone like Gandhi would've been),
where the young Beatles models were, they'd be mannequins of them from a decade ago(tits out, of course)

The only difference would be that none of the Beatles were pregnant on the cover.

In fact, the only reason this image mightn't happen is that it'd have to be a landscape image... although I'm sure John Ryan could be convinced that the world needs more magazines suited for landscape photos.

Bad News

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 04:21:00 +0000

Manager: We've been thinking about your general performance here since you started, you've been hardworking, willing to do anything and incredibly well organised towards everything. So we are going to give you an junior assistant managerial position for the holidays.
Me: ...what does that mean?
Manager: Basically it means you'll be mainly doing stuff related to order, accounts and a good deal of work at the checkout too. You'll get a small payrise and an awful lot more paid working hours. Time and a half for overtime too.
Me: Did you say work at the checkout?
Manager: Yes, you'll be sitting and all, a lot less laboursome and exhausting than your usual work.
Me: Oh well, I guess, hmm, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

PS. I've absolutely no idea when I'm gonna actually type up a post again. I've had ideas and such, but no motivation whatsoever to actually type them up. You may be getting excerpts from the worst play in history if I don't start soon, which kinda is worth looking forward to.

Forgive Me For Being Ignorant...

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 23:09:00 +0000

...but is this not the single most unintentionally laughable scene from a film, ever. Can't believe I bought this.

Finished?

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 10:13:00 +0000

Mid-30s Man: Excuse Me, do you happen to sell single roses?
Me: Single tin or single chocolate?
Man: What?
Me: Cadbury's Roses
Man: No, a single real(!) rose.
Me: In a fight with the missus, eh?
Man: Obviously! Think you're incredibly witty eh? Stating the bleeding obvious.

Cocks

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 02:29:00 +0000

It's not all terrible living in Longford, I suppose. Occasionally little things can make it almost worthwhile. Today, for example I was walking home, which is a forty minute walk. I was walking along home and met some hostility from pretty much every house.

The first house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The second house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The third house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The fourth house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The fifth house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The sixth house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The seventh house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The eight house I walked by had a vicious cock crowing at me.
The ninth house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The tenth house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The eleventh house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The twelfth house I walked by had a chained dog barking viciously at me.
The thirteenth house was ours.
I walked on to the fourteenth outta curiously and found a chained dog barking viciously at me, then I went home.

Hopefully the strange one there passed you by without much surprise, that's what I was trying to aim for anyways cos that's how I responded. The fact I didn't even find it odd is one of the nice things about this place.

Charlie Brown

noreply@blogger.com (B) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 07:27:00 +0000

For some reason, I tend to collect wrappers. Not all of them, just ones that have an old package design on them right after a new one is brought in... for some reason I feel sorry for the design. Anyways that's damn near irrelevant.

I was eating cereal a few days ago and noticed the ingredients said that the nutty bits were 5% of the total ingredients, that's 18.75 grammes per package. So I ran up to my room, found an old KP peanuts package, ate 4 packages of the cereal(removing the nuts), put the nuts into the 60 gramme packet and then ate them.

Moral of story: I should focus my mind on something more productive.