or
How Morellis bored me to insanity
"I really hate Morellis today. I think it is just because I was shouted at by some idiot who things that because he is about 20 years older than me by age, that means he is far mentally superior. Bullshit. Today I rung in two sundaes, because thats what the guy had. Then Jimmy the uphisownarse foreign guy pushed down on my looming finger and rung in a third which then had to be taken off again. I was right he was wrong. Tosser. After that he got an attitude with me all day when I told him off jokingly. Seems it is OK to joke on his terms. £3.30 an hour is rubbish too for the amout of work. The boss has mild fits, the other is far too stingy. Lots of people have remarked how they would like a job there..no, no you don't. All of a sudden I love my school. I miss it so much. "
Later: Ok, so a few weeks have passed since then and things at work are a little better but only due to the fact I only work one day a week now. Also myself and my childhood friend Paul, along with Martin, have found amusing ways to pass the time.1) Collecting the paper decorations that are put in the big ice creams, and in the cause of Martin, putting them on your death trap of a bike with no brakes. At least he dies with monkey coverted,
2) Throwing things at customers and seeing if they notice
3) Whipping each other with the tea-towels in a perverted way
4) Laughing at Will
5) Laughing at the boss and the stupid things he said like "don't lean", " That's it", " Ummm...*looks around, tumble-weed goes by* Martin, can you get me half a turn of good mix?". Then after lauging mocking these 365 days a year
6) Calling each other "a ------------- (descriptive word) mofo", i.e sexy, stupid, ugly, monkey etc.
7) Calling the boss immature for having a water pistol and conkers
8) Making catapults out of elastic bands
9) Daring tricks of throwing spoons into the container in interesting and death defying ways. Double back flip a favourite ( the spoon does this not us)
10) Reminising about the people at Primary school with Paul
11) Eating the leftovers and stealing "illegal" drinks from the dispenser.
12) Using the plunger (a kirsty favourite)
13) Watching the clock
14) Squashing paninis
15) Forgetting who the food is for
16) Being the "scubber"
17) Pretending to dry up
18) Acctually doing any work (0.1% of the time)
Unfortunately such merriment is only available when I manage to stay in the kitchen for more that 10 seconds when I am stuffing Flake in my mouth. Chris, my boss, seems to think that Kirstylyn does infact love scooping ice cream so much that he puts me "down the window end" all day from 11 to 6. This place is the furthest away from kitchen fun and the only communication I get with Paul and Martin is when they say "Hullo" when putting a cup back. Martin is eternally scared of the ice cream end when one day under my apprenticeship he managed to know other a whole rack of about 30 cones, which smashed into a million pieces. He has not been back since. This week I was a "lucky mofo". I got to be on big ice creams which is quite a cushy job, but not as bitchin as the kitchen. Its quite hard to memorise all the ice cream things but I got the hang of it. The trick is to chuck as much shit in as possible without getting into trouble. On the whippy machine I am allowed to do two rounds and then off, and we charge £1:60. Bare coinage geez. Mr Morellis must take baths in gold, expecially when he pays us hard working souls 3 30. the gay.more laterps: coffee-o-phobia is caused by third degree burns from the coffee machine, it makes you go pretty insane. I have the scars.
27 November 2006
Nightsickness(2004)
There is a thing I get some evenings, and it's called night sickness. As my closest friends know, I like stuff. I like clothes and shoes, bags, hats. I like food, I like cities and mountains. I could even go as far as to say I like this horrid unfair world.
But it gets to a certain time, usually after I have spent all my money on something or other and I start to think "What's the bloody point?". My head runs through with all these thoughts, mostly saying something along the lines of " I am going to die, this is a temporary existence, I will mean nothing, I might as well wear crap clothes and live in a caravan like that women from the anthology. I don't need to work my whole life for money, I don't need food, I might as well just die now". And the only way to cure these thoughts is by hitting myself on the head and declaring I am stupid.
But ultimately, I'm not. I am right. Why am I sitting here writing this when I could be busy dead? I suppose humans have it built into their heads clear definitions on what makes us happy and what makes us sad. Humans also feel they have the right to always be happy and when bad things happen then it isn't fair. Yet who said that? No-one ever said that life was meant to be easy. It's like the whole concept of pain. Pain is just a human emotion that we choose to compute. If we pretend it is something else, it could be something else.
Sometimes I feel like having a child and keeping it away from all other people and contact with the outside world and changing the rules. I will teach it that red is now green (as far as the child is concerned, the colour green has always been what we would call red) and tell it nothing of pain. I will call a table a telephone and say odd words. This is, however, a very cruel thing to do, and I certainly would be in deep trouble if I did this, but it is easy to see how all these things, these emotions, were just hearsay, passed on from generation to generation. We invented money. We invented war. And we also invented religion.
This is less of the revolutionary statement it used to be. Now this is my own opinion, and we could argue for a bloody long time about the existence of God or some other magician, but inventing God was a brilliant way of explaining the unexplainable. Now say you broke a cup, and shards of glass shattered all over the floor, and someone asks you who did that, and you make someone up. No-one has ever seen this person, no-one ever will. Let us call him Boo. Now Boo isn't seen but everyone believes it was him who broke the cup, and you have got yourself out of a big hole and don't have to explain yourself to your scary wife, mother etc. But now your wife and/or mother would be pretty stupid in believing in something that they have never seen and have to rely on what you say. In real life, if your husband or son etc said that to you, you'd tell him he was a jackass and make him pay. This is similar to a belief in God. Yet this is a normal "rational" belief in modern society. Insanity is everywhere I say.
But it gets to a certain time, usually after I have spent all my money on something or other and I start to think "What's the bloody point?". My head runs through with all these thoughts, mostly saying something along the lines of " I am going to die, this is a temporary existence, I will mean nothing, I might as well wear crap clothes and live in a caravan like that women from the anthology. I don't need to work my whole life for money, I don't need food, I might as well just die now". And the only way to cure these thoughts is by hitting myself on the head and declaring I am stupid.
But ultimately, I'm not. I am right. Why am I sitting here writing this when I could be busy dead? I suppose humans have it built into their heads clear definitions on what makes us happy and what makes us sad. Humans also feel they have the right to always be happy and when bad things happen then it isn't fair. Yet who said that? No-one ever said that life was meant to be easy. It's like the whole concept of pain. Pain is just a human emotion that we choose to compute. If we pretend it is something else, it could be something else.
Sometimes I feel like having a child and keeping it away from all other people and contact with the outside world and changing the rules. I will teach it that red is now green (as far as the child is concerned, the colour green has always been what we would call red) and tell it nothing of pain. I will call a table a telephone and say odd words. This is, however, a very cruel thing to do, and I certainly would be in deep trouble if I did this, but it is easy to see how all these things, these emotions, were just hearsay, passed on from generation to generation. We invented money. We invented war. And we also invented religion.
This is less of the revolutionary statement it used to be. Now this is my own opinion, and we could argue for a bloody long time about the existence of God or some other magician, but inventing God was a brilliant way of explaining the unexplainable. Now say you broke a cup, and shards of glass shattered all over the floor, and someone asks you who did that, and you make someone up. No-one has ever seen this person, no-one ever will. Let us call him Boo. Now Boo isn't seen but everyone believes it was him who broke the cup, and you have got yourself out of a big hole and don't have to explain yourself to your scary wife, mother etc. But now your wife and/or mother would be pretty stupid in believing in something that they have never seen and have to rely on what you say. In real life, if your husband or son etc said that to you, you'd tell him he was a jackass and make him pay. This is similar to a belief in God. Yet this is a normal "rational" belief in modern society. Insanity is everywhere I say.
Wales is the best I promise (2004)
(originally written for www.dowboy.tk and reused with no permission whatsoever because I wrote it Jackass)
What the Hell is Wrong with Wales?!
I thought for a while on what I should write about and I have finally decided what is possibly the thing that annoys me the most in life.
When I am all grown up, finished school, slaved away for a year for hard cash and generally become as bored as I can be by the time I'm 19, I'm leaving this place. No longer will I sit at this computer in the corner of my bedroom, no, I will sit in the corner of a room after coming back from university. I will be living in North Wales, around the Rhyl area.
Now I have told many of my friends this. It is not a dream, a hope, an aspiration, I am going and that is it. Why? Because it is better than here. And there is one thing I hear all the time that I dont undertand. Without fail I will here this question and theory:
"Errrrrrrrr, why do you want to live there, they all shag sheep?!"
Now can I just ask, is that a tested hypothesis or speculation? Or do you have first hand experience? Because when I hear this, it makes me want to drag them there by their hair and force them to look. Why do I want to live there? Because it kicks Thanet's spotty little ass.
Snowdonia, North Wales
(edit: go google Snowdonia, now I am 18 I CBA with putting in pictures)
Now you dont see that in Newington do you? No. You dont see anything like that anywhere around here. Its as flat as a witches tit. Yet people nag on about " oo theres nothing there" and "ooo its shit". May I ask, have you been? No!! I bet you havent. I know one person who has a right to say he didnt like it there and thats because he lived up a mountain and the highlight of his week was the post van. But thats called rural there. Here its called Monkton. And Monkton doesnt have the benefits of sceney. Yet there is a nice pub..
Anyway here are a list of reasons why Rhyl is better than Thanet
1) We have Hartsdown swimming pool, thats as good as it gets around here, if you fight your way past the chavs making out in the park. Rhyl has a massive swimming pool, wave simulator, two flumes, octopus slide, swimming shop, cafe, pot noodle machine and monorail. RHYL WINS.
2) I loved Dreamland. I don't know why exactly, just a lot of memories I suppose. Andrew being sick on the Waltzers (classic), Me running for a ride, falling over and being laughed at, the flying elephants. Where dreams were made. But the tycoon J.G decided that " oh no people are having far too much fun, lets make it shite and then close it down, that'll be really evil hahah, now me and Frank Thorley will rule the world". And so it went, along with Carnabys the best shop in Margate. So now we have nowt except a few arcades, the best two having which caught fire (nice one again Godden) which also include snogging chavs.
Rhyl's seafront streches for miles. Hundreds of arcades usually containing dance machine masters. Various shop selling brilliant shite on one side, while the other has a amusment park for younger children operated by very good-looking young men, and next to this a complex with a cool as hell Indian restuarant which colour scheme is pink, the tourist info unit which is useful strangely enough, and lots of foody outlets like you get on Rollercoaster Tycoon. Further up past the Tattoo outlets and rock shops is the brilliant drealand-esque park which is still going strong and was recently visited by those teenage genious boys Blazin' Squad*. It also has a kick-ass market, both new and second hand stuff, with a crazy shoe seller. RHYL WINS
3) Now to give some credit to Margate, I havent found a decent pool place in Rhyl yet, and the bowling alley is pretty small, yet it is next to the sea. But I guess.. MARGATE WINS.
4) Things they have that we dont:
Observation Tower
Humourous Horror Dungeon
Tourists
Topshop
Half pipes by the sea
Lido-esque outside swimming pool
Castles
Welsh People and Brummie Chavs (hilarious)
Slate Museums (a must-see)
Near to the town with the longest place name in the world ( I have been there, the shop is fabulous. They sell all this stuff with the name on it like railway tickets and teddies. Adam had a whale of a time)
Are you starting to see my point? Everyone hates Thanet, I'm such Chris would agree. Take it from us, get away while you can. Oh and the Stereophonic's come from Wales..need I say more.
N.B Other places that kick Thanet's butt include Everywhere
The End
* Humour
What the Hell is Wrong with Wales?!
I thought for a while on what I should write about and I have finally decided what is possibly the thing that annoys me the most in life.
When I am all grown up, finished school, slaved away for a year for hard cash and generally become as bored as I can be by the time I'm 19, I'm leaving this place. No longer will I sit at this computer in the corner of my bedroom, no, I will sit in the corner of a room after coming back from university. I will be living in North Wales, around the Rhyl area.
Now I have told many of my friends this. It is not a dream, a hope, an aspiration, I am going and that is it. Why? Because it is better than here. And there is one thing I hear all the time that I dont undertand. Without fail I will here this question and theory:
"Errrrrrrrr, why do you want to live there, they all shag sheep?!"
Now can I just ask, is that a tested hypothesis or speculation? Or do you have first hand experience? Because when I hear this, it makes me want to drag them there by their hair and force them to look. Why do I want to live there? Because it kicks Thanet's spotty little ass.
Snowdonia, North Wales
(edit: go google Snowdonia, now I am 18 I CBA with putting in pictures)
Now you dont see that in Newington do you? No. You dont see anything like that anywhere around here. Its as flat as a witches tit. Yet people nag on about " oo theres nothing there" and "ooo its shit". May I ask, have you been? No!! I bet you havent. I know one person who has a right to say he didnt like it there and thats because he lived up a mountain and the highlight of his week was the post van. But thats called rural there. Here its called Monkton. And Monkton doesnt have the benefits of sceney. Yet there is a nice pub..
Anyway here are a list of reasons why Rhyl is better than Thanet
1) We have Hartsdown swimming pool, thats as good as it gets around here, if you fight your way past the chavs making out in the park. Rhyl has a massive swimming pool, wave simulator, two flumes, octopus slide, swimming shop, cafe, pot noodle machine and monorail. RHYL WINS.
2) I loved Dreamland. I don't know why exactly, just a lot of memories I suppose. Andrew being sick on the Waltzers (classic), Me running for a ride, falling over and being laughed at, the flying elephants. Where dreams were made. But the tycoon J.G decided that " oh no people are having far too much fun, lets make it shite and then close it down, that'll be really evil hahah, now me and Frank Thorley will rule the world". And so it went, along with Carnabys the best shop in Margate. So now we have nowt except a few arcades, the best two having which caught fire (nice one again Godden) which also include snogging chavs.
Rhyl's seafront streches for miles. Hundreds of arcades usually containing dance machine masters. Various shop selling brilliant shite on one side, while the other has a amusment park for younger children operated by very good-looking young men, and next to this a complex with a cool as hell Indian restuarant which colour scheme is pink, the tourist info unit which is useful strangely enough, and lots of foody outlets like you get on Rollercoaster Tycoon. Further up past the Tattoo outlets and rock shops is the brilliant drealand-esque park which is still going strong and was recently visited by those teenage genious boys Blazin' Squad*. It also has a kick-ass market, both new and second hand stuff, with a crazy shoe seller. RHYL WINS
3) Now to give some credit to Margate, I havent found a decent pool place in Rhyl yet, and the bowling alley is pretty small, yet it is next to the sea. But I guess.. MARGATE WINS.
4) Things they have that we dont:
Observation Tower
Humourous Horror Dungeon
Tourists
Topshop
Half pipes by the sea
Lido-esque outside swimming pool
Castles
Welsh People and Brummie Chavs (hilarious)
Slate Museums (a must-see)
Near to the town with the longest place name in the world ( I have been there, the shop is fabulous. They sell all this stuff with the name on it like railway tickets and teddies. Adam had a whale of a time)
Are you starting to see my point? Everyone hates Thanet, I'm such Chris would agree. Take it from us, get away while you can. Oh and the Stereophonic's come from Wales..need I say more.
N.B Other places that kick Thanet's butt include Everywhere
The End
* Humour
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Pet Shop (2004)
In my short and wistful life, I have encountered many sources of inspiration. I have a very distinct memory of spotting all my older friends reading a mysterious blue and yellow book, and thinking " Hey, what is that, and why do you love it so?".
I borrowed the afore mentioned document from my friend Andrew ( I am apprehensive to write this as I have as of yet failed to return it, and I am sure he hasn't noticed) and read a little of it. The size of the monumental script put me off a little, yet I felt much better when I realized it was in fact four books. However, these fears were resumed when the text size used within it was usually used in the bible or other longwinded and, dare I say it, boring books. Isn't it amazing that boring is such a..well boring word. Let's think of other similar words: arid, bomb, bromidic, characterless, cloying, colourless, commonplace, drab, drag, drudging, dull, flat, insipid, lifeless, monotonous, moth-eaten, platitudinous, repetitious, routine, spiritless, stale, stereotyped, stodgy, stuffy, stupid, tame, tedious, threadbare, tiresome, tiring, trite, unexciting, unvaried, vapid, wearisome, well-worn, zero. Now with the exception of trite (that is my most favouritist word, what with it being in so many of the songs I like and it sounding terribly like tripe which is terribly funny) they are all unhappy words. Cutyourownthroat words as Terry Pratchett may say (more on him later).
This is what I thought of the sacramental book when I first started reading it, and to use a completely arbitrary word, I thought it seemed awfully trite. I read a little and didn't feel a profound effect and so tossed it aside and read other things such as my beloved Terry Pratchett books. Nothing wrong with these books yet in retrospect I have now decided that this was a little of an unwise choice. I yearned to finish the book, I am that sort of person, and took to reading it again. And I finished it in record time and still didn't feel as if my life had changed, just feeling that I'd just read a classic book that was also very funny and made the name Ford suddenly appropriate to name my first born son.
It wasn't until I read the fifth book Mostly Harmless that I began to notice the genius that was the vein under everything I had read by him. This final book is, in my opinion, the best of the Hitchhikers trilogy of five. My main memory of this book is when Ford is falling out of the window at the Guide headquarters. I could lie to you and say I know exactly why he was falling but, to be honest, I don't have the slightest clue. All I know is that it is what youths these days would call a "well good book".
If your life has been with little excitment and you find yourself sitting at home one lonely Sunday afternoon, I give you this task to do. Read the fourth book So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish from start to end, paying particular attention to the love between Arthur and Fenchurch, and whilst doing this listen to Pet Shop Boy's actually album. I challenge you to try and explain how the hell this CD fits so well whilst reading the book. Cause I'm damned if I know why.
I borrowed the afore mentioned document from my friend Andrew ( I am apprehensive to write this as I have as of yet failed to return it, and I am sure he hasn't noticed) and read a little of it. The size of the monumental script put me off a little, yet I felt much better when I realized it was in fact four books. However, these fears were resumed when the text size used within it was usually used in the bible or other longwinded and, dare I say it, boring books. Isn't it amazing that boring is such a..well boring word. Let's think of other similar words: arid, bomb, bromidic, characterless, cloying, colourless, commonplace, drab, drag, drudging, dull, flat, insipid, lifeless, monotonous, moth-eaten, platitudinous, repetitious, routine, spiritless, stale, stereotyped, stodgy, stuffy, stupid, tame, tedious, threadbare, tiresome, tiring, trite, unexciting, unvaried, vapid, wearisome, well-worn, zero. Now with the exception of trite (that is my most favouritist word, what with it being in so many of the songs I like and it sounding terribly like tripe which is terribly funny) they are all unhappy words. Cutyourownthroat words as Terry Pratchett may say (more on him later).
This is what I thought of the sacramental book when I first started reading it, and to use a completely arbitrary word, I thought it seemed awfully trite. I read a little and didn't feel a profound effect and so tossed it aside and read other things such as my beloved Terry Pratchett books. Nothing wrong with these books yet in retrospect I have now decided that this was a little of an unwise choice. I yearned to finish the book, I am that sort of person, and took to reading it again. And I finished it in record time and still didn't feel as if my life had changed, just feeling that I'd just read a classic book that was also very funny and made the name Ford suddenly appropriate to name my first born son.
It wasn't until I read the fifth book Mostly Harmless that I began to notice the genius that was the vein under everything I had read by him. This final book is, in my opinion, the best of the Hitchhikers trilogy of five. My main memory of this book is when Ford is falling out of the window at the Guide headquarters. I could lie to you and say I know exactly why he was falling but, to be honest, I don't have the slightest clue. All I know is that it is what youths these days would call a "well good book".
If your life has been with little excitment and you find yourself sitting at home one lonely Sunday afternoon, I give you this task to do. Read the fourth book So Long, and Thanks for all the Fish from start to end, paying particular attention to the love between Arthur and Fenchurch, and whilst doing this listen to Pet Shop Boy's actually album. I challenge you to try and explain how the hell this CD fits so well whilst reading the book. Cause I'm damned if I know why.
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