To what do you owe the pleasure?

In the space of around three months, I have thought about many things that I could blog about. Michael Jackson died; I could have attempted writing a blog noting the correlation between the lack of my writings and the decline in Michael Jackson's health (it is there). Eminem's latest, half-baked effort (on which my opinion tends to fluxuate). The amount of fail that Burger King is compared to McDonalds (this is definitely something I will return to). My futile attempt to continue to not join World of Warcraft (and my destined-to-be-futile attempt at not returning to it). And there was swine flu! Anyone notice that?

But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to log onto Blogger (or Blogspot, whatever the hell it's called) and actually write something. For one, my password is pretty long. It's not that I don't remember it, it's just that it's long. You ever tried to type out something that was really long? It takes ages.

So what exactly has pushed me to write a blog now? Something big must have happened. Michael Jackson died and I couldn't be bothered to write about it, for fuck's sake. Well, I'll tell you what happened: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen was released.


Remember the first Transformers film? Not the animated one, the live-action one a couple of years back. That was awesome. It was funny without trying too hard, it was rude without seeming like it was just trying to offend or be down with the kids, the effects were decent, blah blah blah. It was a really, really good film.

Now, do you remember Bad Boys? The first one? That was awesome. It was funny without trying too hard, it was rude without seeming like it was just trying to offend or be down with the kids, the effects were decent, blah blah blah. It was a really, really good film. Anyone see Bad Boys 2? I'm sure most people have seen Bad Boys 2 but not Bad Boys. Well, compared to the original, the sequel was a complete and utter mess. It was too epic, it was too out-there, it wasn't that funny and it was too fucking long. But, to be fair, it was still quite enjoyable. It still had Will Smith, the action was still awesome and RIGHT NEXT TO THE MINE


So let's take the amount of fail that it was compared to the original. Multiply that by over 9000, add some robots, replace Will Smith and Martin Lawrence with trash-talking 'hoodbots' and add some white people. Whaddya get? Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.

It was terrible. Absolute trash. Completely and utterly fucking awful. And should I really have been surprised? Not that I was that surprised; I did expect it to pale in comparison. I didn't expect it to lose brain cells and hobble around a bit as if it had been caught getting head of its own grandmother. Did they expect us to orgasm as we discovered that 90% of the scenes from the trailer took place in the first five minutes? Did they expect us to feel as though they're on our level as Sam's mother accidentally ate pot brownies and subsequently acted like a drunken fool on steroids and a hundred cups of coffee? Did they expect us to cry with laughter whenever Niggabot 1 and Niggabot 2 appeared on screen and insult each other with hood slang? To be fair, and tragically so, a lot of the audience did. Which further proves that most of humanity are complete idiots.

I'm not going to claim I'm not opinionated, and that I can't be a douchebag about it at times/most of the time, but I am perfectly aware that you like what you like, and it doesn't really matter. However, if you found this film enjoyable, you are an idiot. There's no other way of looking at it. You're a fucking moron.


Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. It's like taking the last twenty minutes of Return of the King and expanding it into a 150-minute torture session. But worse. Take every cliché you could possibly think of, make them more cliché, and you're not even close. It's not even so-bad-it's-good, it's just fucking bad. Now everytime I watch the first one, I'll get horrible acid-flashback-like memories of this one. Having to sit for three hours, writhing in my seat, sighing loudly, fidgeting, banging my head against my knees, seeing the people around me getting visibly annoyed but not caring, actually getting out of my seat a little bit at one point and throwing my arms into the air while quite audibly saying "What the fuck is this!?".

And yes, before you ask, I am going to see Transformers 3.

Pannenkoek!

I was going to write a blog entry on Valentine's Day about Valentine's Day. However, seeing as I could no longer draw anything negative from my point of view, the piece would have been boring and unfair. But, today was a day far more epic in terms of concept: Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as PANCAKE TUESDAY!

As well all know, Pancake Day originates in 1947, the year after Jesus rose from the dead and killed Hitler and his Nazi followers, not revealing he had done so until the last Tuesday of February 1947. They celebrated with pancakes that Jesus himself cooked. These pancakes were so delicious that mankind have been trying to make pancakes as good as those ever since. I decided that, for the first time, I would have a go at accomplishing this. My first attempt failed miserably, as did my second attempt. I was following the instructions of a highly-detailed, traditional recipe by Delia Smith. It ended up looking like something you'd get if you crossed Slimer from Ghostbusters with the Cloverfield monster.

However, after I viewed a 55-second how-to video on YouTube, I was able to make many perfect pancakes, which I consumed with sugar and ice cream. But not before filling the kitchen with smoke and probably nearly setting off the smoke alarm which, if you remember my first blog entry, is very fucking loud and would have resulted in my death at the hands of my rudely-awakened mother.

So, again. YouTube beats tradition. But then again, who the fuck thought otherwise?

When I say boom-boom-boom, you say bam-bam-bam.

Dave Grohl is one of the only men on Earth who, if he were to come up to me and offer a full-on kiss, I would accept. No alcohol or drugs required. He is the definition of Manly and Awesome. You really think Chuck Norris is that great? You obviously don't know Dave Grohl.

He's in a band. Foo Fighters. You probably know of them. They're a good band. However, when Dave Grohl announced the Fighters going into a long, long hiatus late last year (like, a five or six year hiatus), I was glad. His reason for this hiatus was so that they could make time to do other things, give the fans a chance to really miss them, and to come back with something fresh and more original.

THAT'S why I was glad. As good as they are, if there's one thing the Foo Fighters are not, it's original or exciting. Like, in the slightest. As much as some people wish to deny it, they really only have two songs: the chord-mashing sort-of-spoken verse then sort-of-yelled chorus anthems, and the finger-picked crooned ballads. And it's really dull. Listening to an entire album of theirs is like bouncing a bouncy ball off the ground and catching it. It's fun at first, but very quickly becomes boring and almost becomes challenging. But always mildly entertaining. A band can be overrated or underrated by critics; but when pretty much every critic gives the music of a band an average review, then you have a band that makes average music.

Hence my disappointment when Dave Grohl recently announced that they were working on a new album. So that made the hiatus that he said would last over five years...four months long? Nice one. Let's hope they've had a musical reinvention and will try something different. I mean, seriously, why do you think an average Foo Fighters song takes literally a few minutes to write? Because most of them are the fucking same. Please guys, make me want to listen to your stuff without giving me that horrible feeling of familiarity.


Seriously, look at him. He's fucking awesome. And I managed to write a blog entry without mentioning Nirvana!











...fuck.

A heartwarming comedy that you and your family will want to enjoy again and again.

I have predicted The End. I'm not talking about that My Chemical Romance song that sounds exactly the same as Five Years by David Bowie (seriously, I don't know why they haven't been sued for that. And on the subject of MCR, their new song is balls, when you cover a Bob Dylan song you should add something unique to it, not just distort the guitars and throw in a guitar solo). I'm talking about The End of All Things. On Facebook.

As anyone that I know with a Facebook account will have probably gathered, the Trolls have been getting their due revenge on the douchebags that inhabit Facebook. Although most of the time they just attack the innocent bystanders that inhabit Facebook. In any case, the trolling has come on strong, and is slowly moving towards an e-penis battle between Internet Tough Guys. So, this is how The End of All Things (on Facebook) will occur. Simply put, some serious beef will go down, possibly causing Facebook to collapse on itself. At the very least, friendships will be destroyed and dignities will be torn to shreds. This will all happen within the next few weeks. Stay tuned.


World War IV might be fought with sticks and stones, but World War III is being fought with provoking text and pictures of cats.

P.S. The most likely cause of The End of All Things (on Facebook) is actually the fact you can now "Like" ANYTHING YOUR FUCKING FRIENDS DO.

Cancer. In your balls.

Holy heck! Did you know the SCIENTISTS and EXPERTS from SOME PLACE IN GERMANY have done lots of RESEARCH and EXPERIMENTS have OFFICIALLY DISCOVERED and PROVEN that SMOKING LARGE AMOUNTS OF CANNABIS ON A DAILY BASIS CAN HELP CAUSE TESTICULAR CANCER IN LATER LIFE!?!??!?!!!?!!?!?!!?!!

Well done, News of the World. Smoking large amounts of anything will help give you some form of fucking cancer.

Give me simple melodies and teenage angst in a pretty little basket.

A few years ago, I always said I'd never enjoy the music of blink-182, and that they'd never return because Tom DeLonge just wouldn't have it. So why am I here, on the 9th of February 2009, celebrating their comeback? Well, okay, 'celebrating' is the wrong word. 'Being happy about it' is probably a better phrase. In any case, it's odd that I've gone from despising a band to the point where I wished death upon the members to actually STFUing and enjoying them. Well, let me give a possible reason as to why I hated them so much in the first place. It's a reasonably simple explanation: I based my opinion on them on comparisons to other bands such as Nirvana. When I was introduced to blink-182 in the buying of two of their albums at a car boot sale, I was in Year 7. And I was obsessed with Nirvana. And while I was still willing to listen to anything else, for some reason, I decided to pick on blink-182 and hate them because they weren't as good. Which is retarded; I realize this now. You can't base an opinion of a simple pop-punk band by comparing them to a band like Nirvana. So, last year, I decided I'd give them another chance, as I stumbled upon Stay Together For the Kids, which I heard and thought was brilliant, before being horrified when I realized it was blink-182. And I found myself enjoying them.

And now here I am, sitting at my laptop, watching the Internet going slightly crazy due to their appearance at the 51st Grammy Awards coming with the announcement that the band are indeed coming back with a new album and a tour.



Did anybody else notice Tom DeLonge acting really awkwardly during the announcement? I mean, it's completely understandable, given the nature of the break-up, but it's still quite funny.

Maybe this means Angels and Airwaves will fuck off, eh?


PROTIP: When someone has told you to log on to Facebook in the hopes of some discussion and they're appearing online or writing on your Wall, remember to check the top of the page and see if you have any messages. It might just be me, but Facebook should really make it clearer when you have new messages in your inbox.

Last nights blog entry received over 40 comments. Obviously, my comeback was highly anticipated and welcomed.

Why should we bother with making an interesting TV series?

I must say, I got rather annoyed when Skins fans completely dismissed the third series because of the cast change. It was the logical direction for the series. How can a college drama be about University students? Answer: It can't be, you stupid cunts. Just allow the series to unfold as it should and hope that the third series at least brings us lovable characters that we can relate to again. Because that's what Skins is, right? A series based around characters.

Maybe these people were right. Right for the wrong reasons, but they still might have been right.

This new series is utter, utter balls. I mean, of course the last two series were more extravagant than being a teenager irl, but come on. This series just aims to be wild and, for some reason, more violent than it needs to be. The characters themselves aren't even worth paying attention to, as they're either annoying douchebags or boring douchebags. In the first series, we had Tony and Sid. Tony was a douchebag. But he was a good character: he was manipulative, good-looking and funny. Sid...do I really need to explain why he was awesome?

He was Tony's best mate. Why was he Tony's best mates? They were almost complete opposites. Add the fact that he was madly in love with Tony's girlfriend, and you're at least partially intrigued as to the hows and the whys. These are the characters and situations we're missing in the third series. What best-mates-but-fuck-knows-why duo do we have leading the third series? Annoying douchebag Cook and boring douchebag Freddie.

Cook? Moar like Cock, amirite? And Freddie? Moar like GTFO My Show You Boring Twat, amirite? And we seem to be getting a poor re-invention of the Tony/Sid/Michelle triangle, because Freddie likes Effy (for some reason), but Effy keeps letting Cook fuck her (for some reason). Seriously, why? Why is Cook allowed to tap Effy so much? He's a complete fucking dick with none of the charm that kept Tony from being despised as a character.


Then, you've got the constant pathetic attempts at making the show the most WILD AND CRAZY AND DOWN WIT DA KIDZ SHOW EVAR with all the focus from the writers going on fitting in opportunities for the characters to smoke weed, get wankered, have sex or beat someone up. The writers seem to have completely missed the point of their own show: instead of giving us a smart and occasionally hard-hitting show, they've put all their efforts into the less-dramatic, more-crazy side of the show.

Well fucking done.

Maybe things will pick up for the second/fourth series, which will probably see misery brought upon their lives and most likely see one of them die. You know, mirroring the darker tone of the last series, which saw the shows most popular character kick the bucket (I mean, seriously, wtf?) and everything just generally being really confusing and depressing.

Anyway, this was a pretty pointless rant, because everyone who I'm aware reads this blog either doesn't watch the show or does watch the show and knows all this already. But I needed a rant, you know? I haven't written on the blog in like, two weeks. Which is odd, because I should have more inspiration for writing, seeing as I recently got one of those things...what are they called? A girlfriend? Something like that. I won't reveal her name for the sake of annoying people, but I will say that the name she usually goes by rhymes with 'sexy'. You knows it.

I can't believe I'm stuck with her all summer.

I completely sympathize with anyone harmed by suicide, be it the victims or the people they leave behind. But seriously, you must have such a fucking grudge against the world if your choice method of suicide is jumping in front of a train. Not only do you leave behind a terrible mess for Dr. Jan Itor, you fuck up the entire timetable for trains within about 100 miles, maybe more. You also run the risk of severely damaging the psyche of the poor sod driving the train. Hence why my journey from Chalont, which should take about half an hour, took three-and-a-half hours today. Which really, really annoyed me. And you know what album I was listening to on my iPod? As opposed to listening to cheery music in an attempt to calm my sorrows? You guessed it, OK Computer. I'll never learn.

Before I talk about the Oscar nominations, my mum just made a direct reference to the band Lostprophets. How does she know about Lostprophets?

Anyway, the Oscar nominations have been announced. Here's the list of the ones people care about.

Best Film
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
Frost/Nixon
Milk
The Reader
Slumdog Millionaire

Director
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - David Fincher
Frost/Nixon - Ron Howard
Milk - Gus Van Sant
The Reader - Stephen Daldry
Slumdog Millionaire - Danny Boyle

Actor In A Leading Role
The Visitor - Richard Jenkins
Frost/Nixon - Frank Langella
Milk - Sean Penn
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button -
Brad Pitt
The Wrestler - Mickey Rourke

Actor In A Supporting Role
Milk - Josh Brolin
Tropic Thunder - Robert Downey Jr.
Doubt - Philip Seymour Hoffman
The Dark Knight - Heath Ledger
Revolutionary Road - Michael Shannon

Actress In A Leading Role
Rachel Getting Married - Anne Hathaway
Changeling - Angelina Jolie
Frozen River - Melissa Leo
Doubt - Meryl Streep
The Reader - Kate Winslet

Actress In A Supporting Role
Doubt - Amy Adams
Vicky Cristina Barcelona - Penélope Cruz
Doubt - Viola Davis
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Taraji P. Henson
The Wrestler - Marisa Tomei

Adapted Screenplay
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - Eric Roth, Robin Swicord
Doubt - John Patrick Shanley
Frost/Nixon - Peter Morgan
The Reader - David Hare
Slumdog Millionaire - Simon Beaufoy

Original Screenplay
Frozen River - Courtney Hunt
Happy-Go-Lucky - Mike Leigh
In Bruges - Martin McDonagh
Milk - Dustin Lance Black
WALL-E - Andrew Stanton, Jim Reardon, Pete Docter

Animated Feature
Bolt
Kung Fu Panda
WALL-E

The full list is nyah.

So, basically, Heath Ledger is up for Supporting Actor, which pleases me. What also pleases me is the nod in the direction of Robert Downey, Jr, for his dark role in Tropic Thunder. One that pleasantly surprises me, because I never really considered the possibility of it happening, is the nomination for In Bruges in the Best Original Screenplay category. Whilst I've only also seen Wall-E from that list, I would love to see In Bruges emerge victorious, though I imagine the gong will go to Milk, as I don't think it will win any of the other awards it's been nominated for. There's no point discussing what will win Best Animated Feature, but Best Film should be interesting. If it goes to Slumdog Millionaire, that would mean Dev Patel went straight from Skins to an Academy Award-winning motion picture that's doing very well in the box office. A winrar is him.

If I had lots of money, my crotch would be A-OK.

I just ate a bowl of Special K. And by 'a bowl of Special K', I mean the cereal. Not a bowl of horse tranquilizer. If I had just eaten a bowl of ketamine, I can assure you that this blog would be much more interesting. Or much more undecipherable. Or not even here, because I'd be outside watching myself chase the parked cars in McDonald's car park as opposed to writing a blog. Actually, come to think of it, I'd be dead. Thank God I didn't eat a bowl of ketamine.

Anyway, I was just thinking. What is the 'gayest' cereal out there? If you'll pardon the expression. I'm pretty sure there isn't a cereal marketed directly to members of the gay community. At least, in Britain, anyway. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if there was one in America.

This doesn't count, it looks shopped. I can tell from some of the pixels and from seeing quite a few shops in my time.

Would it be something colourful and fruity? And by 'fruity', I mean heavily fruit-flavoured. There's Fruit Loops? They sound pretty gay. But it's hard to say, so I decided to do some daring research. That's right, I will go to a gay forum, namely Gayspeak.com, and find a topic about breakfast cereals. Can't be that difficult...oh, found one. And the first post of this thread sounds so fucking stereotypical. I dare you to read this without getting that over-the-top-camp-lisp voice into your head.

Just wondering how many of you are absolutely addicted to breakfast cereals? And how many of you munch on toast or a bacon sarnie or something like that instead?

If you like cereals, what's your favourite??

My all time favourite is Raisin Splits but I'm currently addicted to Multigrain Rice Krispies mmmm!

Come on, surely he can't really be gay? Nobody who's actually gay speaks or writes that camp.

But wait! It continues!

Recently I've found that I eat a LOT of breakfast cereal in the evenings, sometimes foregoing tea in preference of a couplea bowls of the delectable Crunchy Nuts ... which isn't GREAT when you're trying to keep weight ON ... but they're so lush and I AM their bitch.


While I am absolutely Mr Sweet Tooth and I would normally love something in that department, I find that I enjoy something salty more at breakfast time. That and my cups of tea. But Marshlander, he seems to love that Jordan's Breakfast cereal with the dark chocolate chips (he says he can't get it in his area, so it's strange that we can find it so readily here). I've just got to steal one of the dark chocolate chips out of his bowl though.... Naughty moi!


Frosties, LOVE THEM. But my dad wont let me or mum get them cause he says I eat to much.

Seriously, I'm not going through the thread and picking the 'gayest' replies, I've just picked out the first three replies to the initial post. And I haven't even pasted the emoticons. Don't believe me? See for yourself.

If that one is too gay for you, then this link should be safer.

So either stereotypes are way more accurate than people give them credit for (and, let's be honest, they can hit the nail so hard on the head than the nail falls right out of the table and hits me in the balls), or this is a forum full of people pretending to be gay. Which gives me an idea. Shall I infiltrate this fortress? Shall I join this community, act like one of them, see how far I can play the stereotype before they snap and go "no way, José!"? Give your opinion on this endeavour.

Who here has jizzed in their pants?

PROTIP: Don't jizz in your pants.


By the way, I think the gayest cereal would have to be Special K. Hence why I panicked and wrote a blog about it.

A little bitch about loved ones.

I have the new Reel Big Fish album. It's disappointing that it's just a cover album, but as I haven't heard or don't really recollect any of the songs they've covered, listening to it sort of makes me feel as if I'm listening to an album of new, original material. One of which they aren't actually releasing until later this year. Meh.


It breaks my heart to say it because it's a Reel Big Fish album, but it's pretty balls. I don't really know any of the songs they've covered, but ska covers tend to suck big time. Fast and funny covers of songs that aren't fast and funny just do not work, although their cover of Take On Me, not located on this album, is fantastic. But, I'm not going to count this among the Reel Big Fish albums, so it doesn't break my heart that much. Not like We're Not Happy Til You're Not Happy, which was an album of original material that was also balls. But then, that doesn't really count, because they just rushed that album because they wanted to end their contract with Jive Records. Christ, I'm hoping their next album reaches close to the heights of the first three (not including Everything Sucks).

I'm hoping that their gig in February isn't composed mostly of these covers. I'm sure they're not that stupid.

I am Dave Grohl, leader of the Argonauts.

Having a mother who plays videogames comes with it pros and cons. It's good because, if she wasn't interested, then knowing her I wouldn't have an Xbox 360 and a Wii. The only reason I don't currently have a PS3 is because I don't have the money for it, as her lack of interest in the console means I have to buy it myself. If she didn't care then, giving the rate at which I've acquired money over the years, I wouldn't have even got a PS2 until the 360 was a few months from release. On the other hand, when I arrange to play some Halo 3 over the nets with some homeboys, there she goes, playing Viva Piñata, then moving onto Big Brain Academy on the Wii (note that these are pussy games), so by the time I'm on, they're likely to have stopped playing.

I guess the pros really do outweigh the cons here, there are no doubts about that. But seriously, she's about half-way through Phantom Hourglass on her DS, so why doesn't she just play that if she wants to play a game?


I was going to write more, but she just got off the Wii, which means I can go see if peeps are still online. They'd better be. They should be. I hope they are. So, yeah, see ya.

Also:



May as well lol at it.

Your money determines toys that dive in Autumn.

"Here's a payment of £326 by Sainsbury's. That's your employer?"

"No, I've never worked for Sainsbury's. I don't even have a job."

"Ah, right. Well, what appears to have happened is Sainsbury's have accidentally paid money into your account. I can only imagine they meant to pay one of their employees, and mistyped the account number, or something among those lines. But they appear to have done it twice, they paid nearly £800 into your account. So they corrected that mistake, twice, meaning you had no money again...then they corrected the mistake of paying you initially, twice, causing you to be nearly £800 overdrawn in November. They appear to have been gradually corrected this mistake, and that appears to be the only explanation as to why you are currently £20 overdrawn."

"...right."



It's amazing what can go on in your bank account in the few months that you don't even look at your balance, due to not having any reason to look at your balance, due to having no money when you last checked your balance, due to you using it all. When I went into Nationwide to ask them why I was £20 overdrawn despite not using the account since the absolute haze that was Summer 2008, I expected an explanation that, while not completely reasonable, wasn't borderline retarded.

I must be off now, but for all you film lovers out there reading this, might I recommend this ultra-black comedy I had the pleasure of viewing today.

The plot goes like this: a young retirement-home nurse goes for a night on the town, gets absolutely fucked off her face on booze and ecstasy, decides that driving home will be the smart thing to do, and hits a homeless guy, who becomes lodged in her windshield. Panicking, she doesn't stop until she gets the car in her garage, and leave the car there, man in windshield, hoping he'll die before she gets found out. It's crazy dark, but it is definitely worth a watch. Some of the scenes in the film made me wince more than any of the Saw films. One of those films you watch through your fingers while you laugh uncomfortably. And you know I like those.

Churchill promises to beat my renewal quote, but I don't really care.

Anyone who has seen me recently will probably know that, in these cold conditions, I wear my leather gloves and keep my hood up. The current state of my hair is also another reason that I keep my hood up, but it's mostly because it's fookin' cold. Anyway, I happened to be in Chalfont yesterday, visiting a friend, who will remain nameless is an attempt to provoke some sort of complaint over the lack of a namecheck in this post. They might not care, but hey, it's worth a try.

Anyway, after the visit, I walked on over to the train station, my hood up and my gloves on. It turned out I had gone round the back into the car park as opposed to going to the front, so I turned around and began to walk back. I noticed a police car stopping nearby, and a police woman (haha!) stepping out of the car and saying something. I was trying to work out how to get to the front, so the fact that no-one else was there so she could have only been talking to me didn't really register, so I kept walking. Then, with a booming, firm and slightly irritated voice, she said something among the lines of "I'm talking to YOU! Get your hands in the air!" So I turned to her, and replied "Why don't you get your hands in the air?", and strolled off.

That was a lie. I haven't been told to put my hands up by a police officer before, but I assumed that if one does ask you to put your hands up, you should really comply, or they'll blast you away with shotguns, one wielded in each hand. So I raised my hands to head height, and asked her why the fuck she's beefing with me, though not worded like that exactly. She then informed me that I matched the description of someone involved in 'an incident' that took place nearby, and that if I put my hands in my pockets, she "wouldn't take to kindly to that". Just as I started wondering what incident I might have just been accused of, she called up some other niggas and asked for back-up. Within about ten seconds, I could heard dem sirens comin', and two other police cars whizzed onto the scene, and a total of four police officers had surrounded me.

Holy fuck. I'm being accused of murder.


It turned out that I fit the description of someone who burgled a nearby residence then ran off. So, they searched me, finding my fake I.D., which they cut in two with a pair of scissors and gave back to me. They didn't find anything else troublesome though. Thank God I quit my crack habit.

After about a half-hour grilling, they began to ease off me, realizing that they were too quick to assume that I was behind the crime, purely because of the colour of my skin. So, they let me off, with nothing but a slip with all the details and a reminder that I should empty out my pockets every once in a while. I always had a feeling walking around in gloves and a hood would get into trouble with tha muthafuckin' filth, but I didn't think it would involve such brutality.

tl;dr, here's what happened yesterday.


Anyway, I haven't really got anything else to say, I just wanted to inform you all of what a tough motherfucker I am. Now excuse me, I need to go drink some water. I've just had a flashback of the New Years tequila shots and it's making me feel uneasy.

Butters hasn't danced since the tragedy.

Sometimes, I wish I spoke with a Russian accent. A thick but decipherable Russian accent. I can't think of an example of someone who speaks like this, but I can hear it in my head. And I'm sure you can hear it too. I would get laid so much.

I Hope I'm Not Fat When I'm Old
The age, the age.
It's getting moar and MOAR.
Turn the page, days and days.
Grey hairs galore.

I don't mind going grey.
As long as I don't start wasting my time
Watching repeats of wildlife shows.
They seem to do that a lot.

I don't mind getting shorter
I'm okay with that.
But they all seem to get port-er
And by that I mean fat.

God, I hate old people.
Except the ones that give me money.
When I'm an old man,
I'll get an elderly Xzibit to Pimp My Mobility Scooter.

Late Night Poetry with Matthew Mortimer.

Nashdown
Tell me, Kate Nash, why do you look so down?
Is it the quality of your music that's making you frown?
Does it disappoint you to know there are some
Who have no time to listen to something so dumb?

And how did The Enemy get to number one?
Making music that boring just shouldn't be done.
And how can they claim that Alex Turner is dull
When their music makes me want to put bullets in my skull?



Good Idea Fred
Good Idea Fred
Got it into his head
That he was achin'
For some bacon.

But he was too lazy
And much too crazy
For his bacon lovin'.
Didn't put it in the oven.

He got his eat on
Om nom nom.
Didn't get to the cake.
Stomachache.

Cook your bacon
Or you'll be shakin'
Like Good Idea Fred
Who is now fucking dead.

I was going to write three poems, but I've just run out of inspiration. And I should really feed my rabbits, and probably my cats. I don't even know why I felt compelled to write this, probably because I'm feeling a bit miserable. And I'm even more miserable now because I've given this blog a misleading title. It's actually 2:44am, so it should technically be titled 'Early Morning Poetry with Matthew Mortimer' But then it sounds like it's targeted at the elderly who have nothing better to do with the remainder of their lives. 'Late Night Poetry' suggests there could be something edgy and NSFW there. Although Blogger will probably claim I wrote this at about 10pm, so it works out just fine. If you forget that I just admitted it was written at nearly 3am.

It's quite comforting to know that, when I'm feeling down, I don't write poetry about finding out what the veins in my wrist look like or some darkness looming over me, but instead write poetry about Kate Nash and the dangers of uncooked bacon. I'm going to go watch City of God now. And don't worry about me; this picture never fails to cheer me up.

Hey man, don't you touch my belt!

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.

Dingo.


What did you think upon reading the word 'dingo'? Apart from imagining it being said in an Australian accent. Yep, that's right, you thought about babies being eaten. Dingo ate ya baby? I think that's unfair, personally. Let's consider the feelings of the average dingo, forever stereotyped because one of their species got a little peckish, couldn't find a nearby KFC, and just happened upon a baby. I mean, fair enough, I wouldn't go to that extreme if I was hungry in a forest, but still. Really, it's the fault of the parents. They were camping. If they had made or bought some decent food, maybe their baby would still be alive. But no. The dingo could find nothing else to sustain itself, and had to resort to little Azaria. Well done.

What's the difference between attributing dingos with baby-eating and attributing blacks with stealing compulsively? Answer: none. And we ALL racially stereotype. You cannot deny this. Even J.J. Abrams (what, you think I didn't notice the ethnicity of all the looters in Cloverfield, Mr. Abrams? You are sadly mistaken). So, as long as anyone can attribute dingos with baby-eating with no worry of punishment, then, by rights, anyone should be able to express their racist views publicly, whether loudly in the streets or proudly on television or radio, without fear of punishment. Because they're quite obviously the same thing.

Now onto more more pressing matters. Yesterday, I found out all about Latarian Milton, the seven-year old who stole his grandmother's SUV and "took it on a high speed chase". Well, it would appear that no-one in America likes to be beaten. Yesterday, a six-year old from Virginia missed his school bus and decided to steal his mother's car keys and go in her 2005 Ford Taurus. He managed to get six miles away, three times more than Latarian Milton, and didn't crash into anyone, which is much less than Latarian Milton. Should we be concerned that cars are becoming too easy to drive? Should we be concerned that parents these days are becoming too relaxed? No, we should be doing what all the cool kids are doing: laughing at it. Because it's hilarious. Until someone dies, it's hilarious. Latarian Milton still wins because his story is so fucking funny.

Read the full story of this unique six-year old here. Go on, read it, before reading anywhere past this. Read it.

Did you read it? The six-year old claims he learned how to drive by playing Grand Theft Auto. And people said that game had negative effects on humanity!


P.S. I did not mean to contradict myself by arguing against the stereotype of African-Americans stealing and mentioning the seven-year old black kid who stole a car in the same blog post. Apologies.

I took it on a high speed chase!

You're making a cup of tea. Maybe for someone else, maybe for yourself. You boil the kettle, put the teabag in the mug, pour the boiled water in the mug and over the teabag, wait your optimum length of time that suits the strength of your tea, take out the teabag, give it a little squeeze, put it in that dish that you don't clean often enough, then make your way to the fridge to get the milk. You pour in the milk, stir, then put the milk away. You grab the mug and make your way to where you intend to drink the tea.

But wait.

With the light shift that comes from moving from the kitchen, you see that the tea is darker than you thought it was. You didn't put enough milk in.

So you have to go all the way back into the kitchen, open up that fridge again, get out the milk, pour in a little more, stir, put the milk back, then leave with the mug again.

But the same light shift reveals that you still haven't put in enough.

So you have to go all the fucking way back into the fucking kitchen, open up that fucking fridge again, get out the fucking milk, pour in a a lot fucking more, fucking stir, put the fucking milk back, then leave with the fucking mug again.

This light shift reveals that, in your frustration, you put in too much milk. You can add milk to your tea if there's not enough. But if you've put in too much, there's no going back.



Don't even try to pretend it's never happened to you.

Anyway, time to lighten the mood with some comedy. And not just any comedy, some fucking hilarious comedy. Admittedly, it's quite old, and I'm surprised I only found out about this yesterday, considering it's on Encyclopedia Dramatica, but I am so glad I have discovered this. And I'm sure you will love that I have brought this to your attention, and shower me with praise and money.

Readers of my blog, meet Latarian Milton.


He's seven years old. And he's a G. Seriously. He stole his grandmother's SUV back in May 2008, and went for a joyride with his fellow-seven-year-old friend, who "smokes with cigarettes". Seriously. Check out these videos.




And that's not all. Just two weeks later, when his grandmother refused to buy him some cheecken wangs, he threw a bit of a bitch fit.



Is Latarian Milton gonna have to choke a bitch?

For more details and updates on this unique child, here's a handy page.

So, I hope you enjoyed this blog and its many offerings. I shall head off now, and ponder on whether or not I actually enjoyed the ending of Vanilla Sky.

Who wants to smoke some crack in the Himalayas?

MySpace is so fucking dead! It's actually really funny. The lifeline of millions of scene kids everywhere has been raped by Facebook. The only people who still use MySpace over Facebook are those who are refusing to make the move because they want to be 'different'. You know, forgetting the whole point of the thing: social networking. If there's no-one there to socialize (or, at the very least, no-one there worthy to socialize with), then what the hell is the point? Yes, Facebook used to suck. But things are different now. Now MySpace is the one poorly imitating the features of Facebook. But if you want to stick with MySpace because it would break your heart not to post thousands of bulletins looking for sympathy and attention, or you'll miss accepting all those random friend requests from wannabe rappers to boost your e-penis with mass amounts of MySpace friends, then by all means, go right ahead.

PROTIP: Stop being such a faggot.

I'm looking to start a secret society of some kind. I haven't decided what the focus of this secret society will be quite yet, though even if I did, I wouldn't reveal it here. In fact, I shouldn't even be writing about my very intentions to start a secret society on a public blog. To be honest, if I was really that worried, I could just delete what I've written, and seeing as you're reading this right now, I evidently didn't do that. Just letting those who are interested know, I want to start a secret society. So get in touch if you too are interested. Possibly under an alias.

By the way, I have just taken the catchpas off of the comment page, so if they were what held you back from commenting in the past, they are gone. No longer do you need to take an extra ten seconds out of your life trying to copy a word that is placed in front of you.

Although, to be fair, some of those things are bloody difficult.



God, this whole Rachel-singing storyline on Neighbours is fucking annoying.

Scott likes Sally a little too much for his own sanity.

It's just turned 1:50pm on Sunday the 4th of January, 2009. However, Blogger will state otherwise. Regardless of my account being set to London GMT, Blogger insists on keeping me at the time zone of some random place in America (presumably). So, my post about New Years, posted in the late hours of the first day of 2009, was, according to Blogger, posted in 2008. So, apparently, I've only written one blog in 2009, this being my second when I post it. And, although it shouldn't trouble me that much, I find it really, really annoying.



Another thing I find really, really annoying is the whole Heath Ledger scenario. Let me explain: Heath Ledger's role as The Joker in The Dark Knight (you may or may have seen it) was definitely an Oscar-worthy performance. If he doesn't win the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, then it will be the biggest atrocity in the Academy's history (which is saying something, seeing as American History X didn't win any awards at 1999's rape-fest), and if he doesn't even get nominated, I will instigate riots. The thing that annoys me the most about all of this (and my friends all know this already because I rant about it whenever The Dark Knight is mentioned) is that, if he does win, then a lot of cynics will disregard the award as being simply awarded because Ledger is dead. Forgetting that people were predicting he would win the award before he died, and that it is a genuinely Oscar-worthy performance, who else really deserves the award this year? The only other actor that could come close is Robert Downey, Jr, for his turn in Tropic Thunder (not that I've seen Tropic Thunder, but from what I've seen he makes a very convincing negro). Hilariously, he is predicted to be nominated for this role.

tl;dr, give Heath Ledger an Oscar.

I started this rant because I'm going to watch The Dark Knight when I'm done with this. That's right, I've got it on DVD. You may or may not have it on DVD. If you're in the latter, then HA! HA! HAHA!

We all know that drilling envy into people's heads and laughing at them is the mature thing to do. And to those of you who do have The Dark Knight on DVD, I must ask: is the '12' certificate on the side of the DVD cover a bit weird-looking? Mine is.

Insert song lyric here!

As not many people who will be reading this actually write blogs themselves, this will seem a dumb question. But do you ever get it when you log into your blog, open the publisher with the intention of writing something, then realize you have nothing to write about? But you really want to write a blog? So, you end up sitting there, blankly writing about anything that pops into your head, not even sure if anyone is actually reading?

No? Maybe it's just me.

But that's okay. We're going to work through this.