I don't want to come across as a grumpy-guts, but I hate having to go to the supermarket. I don't like how they're always cold when you step in, I find it ironic that they sell you cigarettes right by the front door yet make you walk all the way to the back to pick up your medicine, and I dislike how they compare the prices of two very similar things using different measurements, where they say "this one is £1.50 per 100g" and "that one is £14 per Kilo". Really? Is it truly that hard to get some kind of consistency? C'mon, this isn't politics so don't try and deceive us.
Last weekend, there was this thing on called a Royal Wedding. There were lots of cameras, lots of police and lots of viewers. Twitter, being Twitter, was ablaze with comments about how many people fancied Kate's sister, Pippa. We all watched from the comfort of our front rooms, or the streets as it seems for some die-hard fans, as the royals turned up, we all felt a little sorry for the guy who opened the door on the Queen's car only for her to then get out the other side, and we all chuckled a little bit when the commentator announced "the Queen has decided she's had enough of the balcony". Now, not to be outdone and needing something to do while the PlayStation network was down, America decided that all good games of Hide 'n' Seek must come to an end and finally found Bin Laden. Apparently, they charged into a compound, and shot him in the face, then tipped him in the sea, followed by the awkward phone call where Obama asks Bush if he still has that big "mission accomplished" banner. The bad guy is now dead, and the Princess married her Prince. If Disney made weekends...
This morning, I have this to say: the world is now full of people who have this massively mistaken belief that they can sing! Have you ever wondered why that person in your office, or on the bus, or in the room next door to yours keeps belting out "ballads" that have yet to feature a correct note? Are you sick of replacing your wine glasses because your neighbours singing makes them explode on cue? Where did these people, and their mistaken beliefs, come from? Well, I blame "X-Factor" personally. I mean, let's look at someone like Gareth Gates (yes, I know he was on Pop Idol). He started as a nervous nobody with a stutter. Now, he's a household name. He's a successful recording artist. He's even appearing in Les Miserables in the West End! The thing is that previously, we were used to hearing of great singers after they'd been working at it for years. People like Rod Stewart seemed to have been born for singing; I can't imagine anyone like that having a stutter. This does cause a slight problem, however...
As much as I would rather crawl to a far away place than take the bus, driving does become somewhat annoying at times, don't you think? It's always the stupid little things that get you. For example, my car tells me for miles and miles that it's got loads of fuel and can go for ever and ever, seemingly. Then, all of a sudden, it starts crying and demanding to be fed. "But I'm hungry", it cries with a beep and a flash of the little picture of the fuel pump, "feed me now", like a small child. My pleading with it to shut up and wait a minute are clearly ignored, because it still screams. "But I'm really hungry, and I'm gonna totally die if you don't give me food. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!".
Things like this can be overcome easily, it's the things I can't fix that really get me. Do you know what I love, especially at stupid o'clock in the morning? It's driving somewhere, only to be stuck behind someone driving so slowly, that sensitive measuring equipment is required to ascertain if any movement is actually happening. Good god it winds me up! They drive along, being steadily overtaken by continental drift, with that stupid look on their face that tells us all that the only thing that's going through their mind is the Magic Roundabout theme tune. I'd like to also point out that these people are different from They (as previously mentioned, check the link to learn more), as they're not co-ordinating their efforts to frustrate you; such a move would require something called "thinking". So now, I've started looking at ways to counter these people, and have some interesting ideas.
So today, I've got to go to the doctors to get an injection. It's not a blood-test, it's for hay fever. Yes, every year, for about four months, I find that I can't venture outside without being smacked upside the head with sneezing and a blocked nose. However, this injection should solve it for about a month and a half, which is a massive blessing as I love Summer about four hundred times more than any other time of the year (except 31st March, jus' saying). I had the injection last year, and it was a surprise, mostly because I rolled my shirt sleeve up only to be told "nope, guess again". But, it worked, and it was well worth it just to get my Summer back. I love Summer; I love that a t-shirt and shorts are all that's needed, that it's daytime until about 9:15, that sitting by a river or a pool becomes more enjoyable and less masochistic, but mostly, because it just makes everything that much more awesome. Therefore, it'd be nice to experience it without filling my pockets with tissues and sounding like the man from the Tunes advert.
This week, for your TV viewing delight, there's a programme about a TV cook who does no cooking but does design a school, there's a chat-show starring someone who's barely famous and annoying but has a Dad who's barely famous and annoying, and a whole programme about a house that Queen Victoria stayed in, maybe, for 4 whole days before she was even Queen, thus rendering the whole thing pointless.
Now, I'm not going to spend next Wednesday's blog telling you how it all turned out, because I rarely ever watch TV. Now, I'll give you a moment to take that on board.... You OK? Good! That's right, I barely ever watch TV, due to a combination of what is on being a waste of my time, and my aerial having a personality of its own. This would be fine, if it wasn't a personality that sporadically hates TV when it decides, and sometimes simply can't be bothered to do anything. This week, my TV has been used mostly for watching copious quantities of LOST on DVD, Xbox and occasionally, re-runs of QI and Top Gear on Dave. When the Aerial lets me.
Welcome, one and all, to the "Big Society". Don't ask me what it is, because I honestly have no clue. Apparently, that's the point? I don't know, but what I do know is that the jist of it is that we all contribute a bit of effort to make everything lovely. How nice! However, one problem I've noticed is that I'm not really sure if I'd be a lot of help to this volunteer force. Unless, that is, sarcasm and Xbox is in need on any particular day. That aside, I do think that if it works as suggested, it would be quite nice. There's a number of factors though, that could scupper the whole deal, and the biggest factor... is us.
On Saturday, like a good lad, I helped an old couple do up their garden. Is it fun? No. Is it rewarding? sort of. Is it messy? Oh yes! The small amount of money I received from doing this good deed merely went to replace the gloves and trousers I'd ruined. Could have had a lie-in, but noooooo...
I really could not believe what I was reading when I browsed through the recent dress-code for Royal Ascot's annual Ladies Day. Apparently, underwear is essential, and tans must be even and correctly applied (basically, no streaky marks). Now, Ladies day is a formal event for well presented ladies with satellite dishes on their heads to attend and enjoy the festivities, and has been running since Queen Anne opened the first day on 1711. Clearly, having been opened by the Queen would suggest it's quite a well-to-do event. So what's happened here to allow the risk of some ladies turning up sans pants and with limbs that are coloured part-carrot and part-parsnip to be so great, they felt the need to send out letters to this effect rather than relying on common sense?
Why is it so hard to get good advice these days? For example, I had a cough in October last year that seemed to go on forever. I tried to ignore it, then down copious quantities of honey and lemon, but when I became bored of coughing up my spleen, I headed to the pharmacy who suggested that I should try some cough medicine. When I asked which one, she merely said "this one is good; it tastes of strawberry". Really! That's your basis on what sort of medicine to pick from? I then proceeded to head to the Supermarket to see what they had. I did ask an assistant, but to be honest I might as well have channeled Barney the Purple Dinosaur. He seemed to have an affection for the words "um" and "uh", and kept saying "I dar' now, mate". He did attempt to work out which was cheaper overall, but seemed to shut down every other part of his body, including blinking, as he concentrated 100% on basic addition. I ran away before he overloaded and exploded, naturally.
The doctor was my next port of call, as you'd imagine. However this only served to confuse me even further: apparently, cough medicine doesn't even work at all! Huh?
Right now, the weather is cold, with no hint that it will start warming up for months. To cheer us all up even further, we're told as well that we should expect our winters to become even colder due to global warming. Only in England could we get global warming only to see our weather get even colder! Apparently, we'll all be buried under eleventeen hundred feet of snow while we regale our children about the legend of "The Lost Underwater City of Norwich".
We also have been watching the numbers at the petrol station tick up to £1.30 a litre in some places. This is a lot of money, considering 90p a litre was enough to spark a fuel protest 10 years ago. This is getting a bit silly now, considering that most people who work rely on a car, and the electric alternative is simply impractical (unless you live in Central London, in which case it's merely embarrassing) and still quite dangerous. Apparently, as cars like the G-Wiz are classed as "quadricycles" and not a car (and the difference is...) they don't have to meet the same safety standards as an equivalent vehicle powered by small explosions. On an NCAP-style test, it transpired that a G-Wiz driver would end up having to pick his legs out of the back seat , and he'll need a Dyson to vacuum up his pelvis. I wouldn't drive one, even if the alternative was to be forced to use public transport. Apparently, some lobby group for these contraptions say it's not fair to test a "quadricycle" against a car in such a fashion. Do they think they'll crash in a different way?
I like to take time over my appearance. Even if I'm tired, or just going out for a pint of milk, I can't bring my self to just "throw something on". This doesn't mean I'll preen myself for six hours just to pop something in the wheelie bin, but I will make sure that if I venture into a place where others will clasp eyes on me, that I have at least done my hair. Who knows who you will meet. I can't stand seeing some people who are in town looking like they have just woken up. In a hedge. After a night of vodka and heroin. There's a style to the stubbly look, but the hobo look doesn't fall into the category of "win".
So, here we are, a week before Christmas, and I'm attempting to sort out the "visits" to the family. Ooh, it's a right ol' pain. I've got to see so-and-so on this day, but this-person isn't available until then so I'll have to go and see that-person instead and work my way around, but I can fit relatives X, Y and Z in all on one day. Arg! I'm slowly shifting towards the idea of posting them all a photo of me, and saying "that's good enough", you know, what most people say when the pick up a present for someone when Christmas shopping?
No, honestly, I do love going to see people over Christmas, it's just so much fuss organising it, especially when there's so much other stuff to do: I've got to finish my Christmas shopping in person as Amazon apparently don't sell everything, I've got to build a wardrobe and an office desk, I have some more work to do (I know, I know), I have four hundred and eleventy ten Christmas cards to write, I have to arrange for my car to be fixed as some w~?#{r reversed into it a while ago, and only a week to do it in. And it's now started snowing.
People will believe anything these days. Did you know, for example, that you eat an average of eight spiders a year while asleep, as you sleep with your mouth open and some arachnids, desperate for an entry in the spider's version of "Explorer", wiggle their way down your gullet? I'm willing to bet you already know this fact. However, the best thing about this fact is not the fact that you're inadvertently consuming Charlotte while you drool over your pillow, but that it is complete nonsense.
Pinch punch first of the month!
It's December, people! No doubt all of you have fallen into that mental advent-calender mode of repeating to everyone how many days until your living room becomes strewn with wrapping paper and you can add a singing tie and "festive" pants to your already ample collection. More importantly, you've probably been counting the days until work breaks up for Christmas. Go on, admit it, you've also worked out the hours, and the minutes, and the seconds, haven't you.
Now I'm not one to whinge (HA!) but I like to look on the nicer side of things. Who among us complains about the drive into work? You're stuck in traffic while half-asleep, you didn't have time to eat breakfast, your traffic jam seems to be meeting yet another traffic jam and to top it off, you have noticed that the fact that you're baffled by the noises that come from Radio 1 these days indicates that age is slowly rearing it's head.
Be cheery! At least you're driving! In your car you can sing wildly out of tune, you can shout abuse at the silly man on the radio for his silly suggestions, you can launch a major excavation project in whichever nostril you choose, all in the comfort of your own space. You could be on the bus, for example, sitting on someone else's chewing gum, listening to children scream as loud as they can while the crazy lady sits and stares at your ears. Plus, you'll be really cold.
Good lord, it's November! When did that happen?
Does anyone else get that feeling that the year has crept past them while they weren't looking? I sure do, especially as everyone seems to enjoy saying "xx days until Christmas". Then again, I find myself saying "where did the year go?" every year, so I shouldn't be surprised, but still, one minute I'm basking in the beautiful summer sun and the next, it's that time of year when the fireworks sold for the 5th November are set off. Over a two week period, for no particular reason. at 2am every morning.
Have you ever lost your wallet? Well, this morning, I can happily tell you from experience it falls into the category of a "ridiculously inconvenient". No, really, it is a complete pain in the backside. Not only have I got to organise the obligatory cancelling of all my cards and re-ordering my driving licence, but it's the little things that you normally do without a thought that are now off limits, such as buying food. I have an "Internet-only account", so I can't just pop into the branch to get my money.
Who out there has a "smart phone"? You know, the kind that lets you check Facebook, watch Germans fall over on Youtube and generally waste time browsing the web, all on a phone that has a battery life of about 34 seconds?
Now, who has the Internet? Well, all of you obviously, otherwise how are you reading this? Maybe on a "smart phone". I love all this technological shenanigans personally. I get unbearably excited over new gadgets that do all manner of non-essential yet interesting stuff. I'm sure most of you also use Facebook (Ultimedia does) and I'm sure a fair number of you use Twitter (again, Ultimedia does).
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