Ass Clowns

Hello. Thought it was about time I updated this bastard again. It's been a few weeks. Not that much of note has appertained in said time-gulf. You know how I was bitchin' and whining about finding somewhere to live? And that I found somewhere? Well, today I gave my landlord notice that I'm moving back to the military establishment from whence I came. Sounds a bit retro-active, I know, but the reasons for this are two-, possibly three-fold.

Firstly, I'm hardly ever at the house. The weeks when I'm at work I stay at the base; the weeks I'm off I'm rarely at the house...and also I don't actually know anybody in the town where the house is situated so when I am there I'm bored off my fucking nut. Now, you may be thinking "you soft cunt...go out and meet people..." Have you ever tried to meet random people?! In a town where you know no-one? To say it's difficult is an understatement...especially when there is no common ground to fall on, as that twat who sang Breakfast at Tiffany's may once (or maybe twice) have said (sang). The other biggie for me kinda ties in to the other reasons for my desertion - the rent. I'm effectively renting a room out that I only stay in occasionally. When I think about this, it just seems fucking stupid. And finally...my house mates. There is nothing particularly menacing about any of them - in fact they're all perfectly decent people...it's just that they're a totally random bunch who never socialise together. Not really the kind of environment I was looking for when I set out to find a suitable abode. Ah well, we live and we learn. So yeah, I'm moving out. On the plus side, I'll have lots of money again, and I think one of the first things I'm gonna do is get one of those European train tickets and go for a little jaunt around our fair continent. See a bit of the place. I've not been to many places - namely Turkey, Holland and Sweden outside of the UK, but I really want to experience France, Germany, Italy etc.

Everyone needs a change of scenery every now and then, and I've been moping around sleepy rural England for far too long. It's fucking boring, is what I'm getting at. So, certainly within the next few months I expect to be updating this motherfucker from Paris or Rome. Well, that's the plan anyway.

In other news, I was involved in a bit of a fracas last week. It's all been dealt with though, so I have no worries about recounting the experience here. Here goes:

I went out for a few beers with some mates last week to 'celebrate' a birth. We went to a well-known chain pub and had several beverages. Afterwards, as is usually the case, a few of us decided that some food was in order, so we ventured out in serach of a chippy/olde worlde kebab shoppe. We found a suitable outlet and went inside to order our chosen grease and trans-fat laden delicacy, which arrived promptly and was, in hindsight, thoroughly delicious.

As we were all shoving horrendously tasty fast food into our gobs, the door swung open and in marched a 'jolly' fellow dressed up like a 50 Cent's younger, poorer cousin who then proceeded to aggressively enquire as to which one of us (we were the only 6 people in the shop) had spilt a drink on his shirt. Bemused, we all politely told him that he was mistaken and that he should take his line of enquiry elsewhere - especially as none of us had a fucking clue who the ass-clown was. 30 Cent (geddit?!) then approached one individual in the group and 'squared up' to him, repeatedly accusing him of spilling a drink on his shirt; before ripping said shirt off his back pushing his forehead into the face of his quarry. At this point I decided to step in and try to diffuse the situation, so I took 30 by the shoulder and escorted him to one side explaining that there was a mix-up, none of us had spilt our drinks on him and that he should probably just go home. He then shoved his forehead into my face, while simultaneously asking what I was going to do about it. Without going into too much detail, I then demonstrated what I was going to do about it and the following actions left him in the corner with a busted lip and nose.

At this point, two Policemen came barging through the door and gripped a hold of both of us...although when I explained what had happened, they let me go and took 30 Cent away for some 'questioning.' I've since spoken to a Policeman friend of mine, and he says that the other guy was in the wrong for head-butting me and that I was technically acting in self defence. Whoever was in the right or wrong is irrelevant...the fact is that that guy came into that chip shop with every intention of starting a fight - and he got his just desserts.

Moving on, by FAR the most annoying thing that's happened since my last blog here is the malfunction of my Nintendo DS. Well, it's less of a malfunction, more of a fault that developed literally overnight - I turned it on the other morning to play a bit of FIFA 10, only to discover that the top screen had spunked several blue vertical lines all over the middle of itself. I can still play it perfectly well, but said lines are a little distracting...and they simply were not there the last time I put the thing down. I've looked into replacing the screen myself with a DIY screen replacement kit you can get off ebay, but I've decided that it'd probably be wiser (if not a little more costly) to get Nintendo to do it for me. I'm good with a screwdriver, but I'm convinced I'll just end up breaking it - so I've filled out a fault report on their website and they've sent me a little freepost sticker thing to send the console to them for repair. Which is nice. Still probably gonna cost the best part of £50 to mend it though. Fuck it...travel comes first.

A Pinch of Salt

Well, it's my birthday. Yep - 28 years ago today (at 5.30 PM, to be precise), I was dragged from the warmth and comfort of my mum's womb into this disgusting reality. I can vividly remember lying in my bed while I was still at school (after the school day had finished, obviously) and wondering what I'd be doing in 10 or 20 years. If I'd known then what lay in store for me (various massive family bust-ups, nights sleeping rough, a bullshit University course that has given me nothing but hideous debt, and the eventual downward slide through the gutter of office temping and into a pointless role in Her Majesty's Royal Navy), I'd have probably have just drank a bottle of weed killer and be done with it. Or ran away to join the Texas Rangers like Lard Ass did in the alternative, Teddy Duchamp ending to Geordie Lachance's campfire tale in Stand By Me.

It's not all bad though - I've finally found out just what the hell is going on with my knee. I went to see a physio on Tuesday, and I have to admit that the cynic in me had actually already completely devoured the rest of my personality before I'd even entered the surgery. I was determined that I'd just be made to do a few star jumps and told to fuck off. And I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by the actual session that ensued. The physio asked me to detail how the injury had come about, how long ago, what it felt like etc and then did a proper examination of my legs, range of movement and strength...before coming to the conclusion that I have fucked up my knee by having weak ass muscles. Which is nice. So now I've got a programme of leg exercises to do, and with any luck I should be out running again in the next few months. Happy days.

I've also found a rather nice little trinket in the local Pound Shop. It's a little opaque-white ball that you can put on a shelf (or anywhere else you may want) that lights up when you turn it on via the little switch underneath. Only it doesn't just light up...it cycles through all the wondrous colours of the rainbow! It's a pointless little contraption, but for a single pound - a QUID - I thought it was rather marvellous. I use it as a little night light thing next to my bed, and with the big light off it casts lovely pastel hues across the walls. A bit gay, yes, but soothing...and it COST A FUCKING QUID! What else can you buy for a quid nowadays. Not a fucking lot, I'll tell you. In some newsagents, a can of Pepsi Max costs a quid these days. I remember when a can of pop was 30p - I shit you not, there was a can machine in our school that dispensed ice-cold cans of Sunkist and The Official Alton Towers Nemesis Drink (that tasted of Sambuca mixed with 18 bags of sugar and turned your tongue black) for thirty New Pence. Ah, halcyon days of yore.

This post isn't really going anywhere to be honest, I'm just rambling for my own enjoyment. And there's not a fucking thing you can do about it! Well, there is - you could just go back to reading Wikipedia or adding random fit birds to your 'friends' on Facebook - but where's the fun in that?! Remember my Palm Pre? It's going from strength to strength you know. It updated itself to WebOS 1.4 the other day, and this new software edition has added a few cool new things to the phone. Cool things that you'd already get on other phones, granted (video recording, more stable OS etc), but cool nonetheless. I even got Need For Speed Undercover to download onto it for free the other day. You should see the graphics - it sounds like I'm taking the piss, but they're better than owt I've ever seen on the PSP. Madness ain't it!

Regardless of the above though, it's still my birthday and I still can't go and get bollocksed because I'm at work. Never mind, I'll make up for it next week by necking a bottle of vodka and walking in front of a bus.

Friday Fun

Well, here we are then. I'm back at work. I call it work, but in reality it's nothing more physically taxing than sitting at a desk for 12 hours a night. Sitting on your ass for 12 hours straight can get a little tiresome after the 3rd shift of the week, but I shouldn't really complain. I could be sat at a desk in some sandy warzone somewhere, but I'm not (yet) so it's cool. One thing that ain't so cool is the fact that I have managed to fuck my other, 'good' leg up. I have already documented the trouble I have been having with my right knee (I have officially been diagnosed as having iliotibial band syndrome now, rather than just speculating), but now I've managed to injure my left leg too though idiocy. It's only a matter of time before I'm in a wheelchair - mark my words. How did I do it? Here:

On Thursday I felt like it was about time I tried going for an actual run as my leg didn't feel too bad. I smothered my knee in Ibuprofen cream and set off. About three miles in, I passed a leisure centre that I previously didn't know existed (I've moved to an area I'm not overly familiar with). After my run (and with my knee not feeling too bad), I called the leisure centre and booked an induction for the following day. For some fucking retarded reason, the only induction time they had was at 6.30pm. Why? Why couldn't they have just organised one for the morning or something? There was no point in arguing, so I just accepted it.

6.00 on Friday finally rolled around, so I cycled down to the leisure centre for the induction. It was as I entered the car park that I realised I'd forgotten my fucking wallet - the wallet that contained the £10 with which I was going to pay for the induction. I was particularly annoyed because for some fucking stupid reason, I'd still remembered to pick up my driving licence and bank card...but not the wallet. When I went up to the receptionist in the gym and told her what I'd done, she went off to ask if I could pay by card. This fucking knob of a gym instructor appeared from nowhere and marched over to the reception desk with a face like thunder. "Is there a problem?" he barked at me. I told him what I'd done and he just stood there with a vein popping out of his forehead. "You can't pay by card" came his reply, and just walked back off into the office. Fucking ignorant cunt.

At that point, I was happy to just sack the induction off and go home - since when do you talk to paying customers like that? I'm not some mincing soft-arse, you understand, but you expect some kind of politeness when you are trying to spend money somewhere - be it a pub, shop or a gym. As you can imagine, I wasn't overly impressed with this cock's customer service skills. I went back outside and got on my bike, ready to cycle back to my gaff, but then I remembered that I'd passed a Tesco on the way down and that it had had a cashpoint. So off I set, to get a tenner out from Tesco and then come back for my induction with the roid-rage ignorant wank-stain gym instructor. Why? Because I'm a fucking prick, that's why.

Anyway, I was riding along the pavement, doing a fair old speed on my trusty Carrera Subway when I decided to turn onto the road. I turned, fairly sharply, not noticing that the path was covered in mud in the fading light, and the front wheel just went from under me. The bike slid one way, I went the other and I came to rest on my back several feet away from the bike with my legs on the road and my head cracked against the pavement. My hand was cut open and my knee, thigh and ankle had the skin scraped off. Then a car went past and had the fucking cheek to beep at me as I lay there like a tosspost half on the road. What a wanker. I got up and went to Tesco, got the money and still went back for my induction (that was actually conducted by a different instructor), but my leg was killing me, and I was covered in blood so I just did a quick weights work out and fucked off home. Also, I didn't actually join the leisure centre because the gym itself was pathetically small and all the equipment looked like it'd come out of the dark ages. In a word, it was shit. So basically I threw away a tenner, got spoken to like a cunt and fell off my bike. All on a Friday night. Woop.

Facebook of Psalms

Yep - it's been more than a fortnight and I've not written anything down. No particular reason, other than that I simply couldn't be bothered trying to get online. To wit: it really annoys me that getting online in this day and age is seen as a privilege as opposed to a right of living in the so-called 'digital age.' I remember when I was at secondary school in the time before the world went online mental. IT lessons were the only time you ever got near the internet (usually to check cheats and other such game-rated shite), and because stuff like Facebook, Hotmail, eBay etc didn't exist then, it wasn't overly important. And because of this lack of importance, the fact that the only way to get on the internet seemed to be a few stolen minutes in an IT lesson didn't matter. Fast forward to now though, and little seems to have changed - for me, at least. Trying to get the internet up on my phone inevitably leads to constant 'page error' messages, whilst trying to access a wifi hotspot on my laptop almost always leads down the dead-end, pot-holed lane of 'lack of connectivity;' or the appearance of one of those BT Openzone pages where you have to pay £6000 with a credit card for 3 minutes of internet access. Alas, in a parallel to my earlier internet experiences, the only time I seem to be able to actually get online with a decent, reliable (yet censored) connection is a few stolen minutes at work every now and then (like right this minute, for example). And yet still we are being coerced into thinking we live in some highly advanced, hi-speed online world. Come and live with me for a week. Not only will you learn to live on a diet of Cornflakes, toast and lager - you'll also learn that trying to get online appears to be more trouble than it's worth.

But enough ranting about that. In the time gulf between now and my last post, a few things have happened. Perhaps the biggest thing is that I finally managed to move into an actual house. It's not an exclusive, me-only house though. It's another shared one. However, unlike the one I lived in down in Portsmouth the landlord is a live-in one and so actually possesses the right to turn up at the house when he wants and sleep on the couch. The last landlord didn't live in the house, yet still partook in this activity. Which, as you can imagine, was a bone of contention with me. No, this house is infinitely better than that hole. It's massive, has a top view of Weymouth/Portland Harbour and I'm living with a good, varied bunch of people. Really can't complain. For now. I also got my first ever valentines card yesterday (which wasn't sent to me by myself), which is a result!

Tech news: I'm swapping my new phone. Yes, I harped on about the HTC HD2 a few weeks ago, and I still think it's one of the best gadgets I've ever owned. The only problem I have with it is the touchscreen interface. I'm forever texting and on Facebook (when it loads, fucking shitty O2 network), so a good input method is a must for any phone I own. This is really where the HD2 falls down for me. For obvious reasons, the keyboard you have to use is a software one that pops up on the screen when writing. It must be the buggiest input device on the planet. 5 times out of every 10, it will not register the letter you are trying to press and even with the predictive word suggestion (which is a godsend, by the way), it's still all too easy to end up writing a sentence of complete and utter gobble-de-gook when all you wanted to say was 'crypto-zoology.' It's even worse if you're outside in the blistering cold. For some reason, the capacitive touchscreen doesn't like the cold weather, so trying to text in such conditions truly is a test of patience. The only thing stopping me from hurling the bastard thing at the pavement at times was the knowledge that it's worth about £400. I thought about going into the O2 shop near my new gaff to see if they'd swap it for another handset with a keyboard, but abandoned that because I knew what the answer would be. So instead, I went back to my old friend swapz.co.uk.

Lo and behold - I have found the perfect replacement for my HD2 - the Palm Pre. Whilst it doesn't look even half as technically advanced as the HD2, it has one massive advantage: a proper qwerty keyboard! It's also a bonafide smartphone with all the bells and whistles you could want (including the coveted YouTube app that I've been abusing (when it works)). So I've arranged a one for one swap with a guy who wants rid of his Palm. It comes with a fairly nifty little charger that allows you to simply place the phone on the charging 'block' without actually plugging it in. Sounds pretty cool. I should have it by the end of the week, so I'll post my views as and when.

Speaking of that swapz website, I got my Nintendo DS. To say it's addictive is an understatement, especially since it came with a thing called an R4 cartridge that is in effect a device that allows you to put roms on an Micro SD card and then play them on the DS. Since I acquired the DS, I msut have played nearly every major DS games there is...and I'm impressed. I used to have a PSP and granted, whilst the visuals of most of the games are far superior to any on the DS, I have to admit that having the touch screen adds an extra dimension to a lot of them. Most impressive for me is the way that a lot of the first person shooters use the d-pad and touch screen as a mouse and keyboard substitute. So you use your left thumb to move around and your left index finger to fire (via the left shoulder button), whilst you control the view with the stylus and touch screen. Intuitive - especially in Metroid Prime: Hunters. Furthermore, the range of different games available for the DS is staggering. From games where you have to survive on a desert island (Lost in Blue), beat em ups (Viewtiful Joe), racers (Mario Kart) and crime sims (Crime Scene) to slightly more bizarre things like a game called Scribblenauts where you get to solve puzzles by 'drawing' items - every gamer is catered for. Seriously though, the sheer number of genres represented is amazing - I for one never thought I'd be playing an air traffic control game on a handheld console before I got my DS. It's a brilliant console, and even has wifi capabilities...not that I've been able to use the wifi, or access any of the multi-player modes in any of the games. See paragraph 1 for details.

Optimism

Hello there. Does anyone actually read this shit? I'm guessing not, but I'm fucking bored so I'm writing this to entertain myself. Can't believe it's been 3 months since I updated this blog. Mainly through lack of motivation and a fucking crap 1992-style internet connection, I hasten to add. So what's been happening in my life? Well, I've moved away from Portsmouth - which is good. I fucking hate that place. And I've taken up road running, ditching the treadmill for the lovely outdoors. I used to think running 10k on a treader was quite good, but nowadays I tend to crank out distances of the 17-mile variety instead. How can I tell how far I've run? Well it's down to my latest gadget acquisition:

It's a Garmin Forerunner GPS watch. It's basically a watch (natch) that has GPS abilities and is tracked by a satellite so you can view, in real-time, how far you've run. Once your run is complete, you can then link it wirelessly to your PC and view your route, calories burned, distance, time, speed etc. It's a cracking little gadget although it was quite expensive. £200 actually, but I use it quite a bit so it's paid for itself. The only thing is that it doesn't like getting wet, which is a bit of a pain in the arse in England. In Winter. But when it's dry, it's brilliant.

I really love running through the countryside too, but I'm not very fond of the fucking arseholes who thunder around the pavement-less lanes of Somerset in their Volvo estates. I got hit by a deaf and dumb driver the other day whilst out running. I wasn't injured or owt, but I was wearing a bright yellow running top so I was hardly inconspicuous. Cock tried to blame me mouthing and mumbling that I should've been on the pavement, to which I replied "what fucking pavement?" Should really have poked the ugly twat in the eye, giving him the full set of sensory disabilities. Speaking of inconspicuousness, I could've done with some of it when I got caught short while out running last week - about halfway through it became apparent that I was dying for a shit and every little lane or path I ran down in my search for a decent toilet-bush had some knob walking his dog sculking about. When I did finally find a spot, I let out the most explosive watery shit I've ever experienced...but the relief was almost nirvana-like. Didn't wipe my arse though, so ran the rest of the route with a shitty crevice. That's how I roll, peeps.

What else? Oh yeah, went to yet another wedding yesterday. It was good but I'm getting a bit tired of going to these events now. Yesterday's was my fourth (yes, FOURTH) of the year and whilst I'm happy to have an excuse to go and get obscenely drunk, I'm getting a bit sick of seeing other people happily in love whilst I grow old alone and stinking of piss. Speaking of being drunk, I was yesterday. After the wedding itself there was the expected reception where a frankly unbelievable amount of free champagne, wine, beer and port was being thrown about. Not literally, you understand, but I simply couldn't control my inner alcoholic and so I (naturally) drank everything I could get my hands on. This lead, rather inevitably, to me being unable to walk after a few hours and I have only vague memories of the rest of the night's events. I do, however, remember waking up this morning feeling like a human turd and then throwing my guts up in the toilet several times until nothing but stinking bile came out. Oh, and I seem to have mislaid my brand new, 10 megapixel camera. FUCK! Hopefully, someone has handed it in to the bar at the place the private reception was held...but if not, I'll just have to wait till next payday and buy yet another one...that I can leave in a bar when I'm pissed.

I'm meant to be going to another wedding in a few weeks but I'm seriously considering making up some lame-ass excuse just to get out if it. There's only so much soft smiling and acting like you give a flying fuck that a man can fake. Great, you're getting married. And it's nice that you've found your soul mate. But let's cut the crap - when's the ceremony over? I want to get pissed and eat free food. And don't fucking judge me - everyone thinks the same way.

Oh, and my back hurts. I can't even stand up straight, so I'm walking about like the frigging Hunchback of Notre Damme at the moment . It's probably down to something that occurred last night that I can't remember. Oh well, I'm sure someone will tell me how much of a cock I was at some point.

Lastly, just to address a post I wrote several months ago - I saw Terminator Salvation the other day. I never got around to seeing it at the cinema, even though I waxed lyrical about how much I was looking forward to it - and I'm glad I didn't. What a load of shit! Crap, confusing storyline and what's with the computer generated Arnie at the end?! He didn't even look like that in the first movie - he had short hair, not Conan-style flowing locks! How the producers managed to fuck it up is beyond me, but hey. I'm contemplating going to see The Fourth Kind this week - hopefully that won't turn out to be poo. But probably will. I'm such an optimist aren't I?!

More random bullshit to come this week, fans.

Technological Breakdown

Hello. Thought it was about time I started a 'proper' blog. I'm pretty confident no-one is gonna give a flying toss about anything I write on this thing, but hey - it's what all the coolest kids on the block are doing these days, right? I do write on another blog - The Dreamcast Junkyard, but that's mainly just about games and stuff. This one is going to cover any random shite that I feel is worthy of writing - or blogging - about.

And there's no time like the present, so I'm going to sing the praises of my newest technological acquisition: my Sansa Clip MP3 player. It's fucking awesome. I used to have an iPod Shuffle that I used in the gym, but the piece of shit broke after a few months of use (the little metal bit inside the charging hole broke off so I couldn't charge it up with the dock anymore), so I had to go back to using my old £6.99 Aldi MP3 player. Which was fine, but it didn't have a belt clip so I had to put it in my shorts' waist band when I was on the rowing machine...which led to me having to fish around inside them when it inevitably fell into the void between shorts and underwear. Not a good look in a busy gym.

Anyway, I got this Sansa Clip 2GB from Currys at the weekend for 25 quid, and it blows the Shuffle out of the fucking stratosphere, let alone the water. It's tiny, has an FM radio and is loud as hell - perfect for drowning out the twatting Basshunter infinity loop they have on in the gym.

I'm quite into technology and stuff - especially cool little gadgets. Another top bit of kit I recently got hold of is the Flip Video Ultra. You've probably already seen one or own one, but if you're not familiar with the name, it's a super-basic video camera thing:

It's possibly the most idiot-proof piece of technology I ever clapped eyes on - it's got one massive red button on the back...press it and it records. Simple. Plug it into your PC and you can upload what you've just recorded straight onto Youtube. If you have a fucking crap net connection like me (one of those shite O2 mobile broadband dongles), it can take several millennia to upload though.

The quality of the video is really quite good, but due to compression or whatever the fuck it is, when you upload to Youtube the resolution takes a dive. It's still decent enough though. The Flip usually sells for about £100, but I managed to blag one off eBay for £30! God knows how, but it wasn't boxed and didn't come with the cable that you use to plug it into t TV.

Went to Maplin on Saturday to try and get one of those cables and the one the guy sold me doesn't work so now I'm gonna have to haul my ass all the way back over there tonight after work to get a refund. Yes, I know I'm a moaning cunt - but surely that's the whole purpose of having a blog...isn't it?!