Blog 49: An Enemies List

The other day I made myself an enemies list, of all my enemies.

And here they are:

1) The Queen: she sits there all day and does nothing and gets all our taxes. She's not even good for tourism like people say she is. If they wanted a tourist attraction then invest in a theme park or something, not an old lady. I certainly am NOT going to waste an hour of my christmas listening to her speech.

2) Nick Hall: I can't remember which paper its in but there's a game where you use the picture clues to construct a word and there are several each day, and they have a common theme. The other day I managed to find the theme was the 12 days of christmas song, but one of them puzzled me and I couldn't figure it out.

Turns out it was "Pear Tree Partridge", rather than "a partridge in a pear tree". And it was made by NICK HALL.

3) Some guy called Hwoarang. He kept beating me up on Tekken when I was at my friend's house yesterday. He is my worst of all the enemies.

Blog 48: Hypocrisy

This is the stupidest Blog Post yet: a rant about myself.

I just read my 3rd blog post about people not being happy and moaning all the time.

And then I saw the other 47 Blog Posts, all moaning about something.

Ha.

I'm an idiot.

Still, 47 Vs 1, I guess that means I get to keep moaning.

Blog 47: Unreasonable Tormenting

WHY is frape such a massive craze now?

Frape, or "facebook rape" is when someone goes on your facebook account and writes things under the false pretence that they are you: they might write in your status or on other people's walls. Common things to write are either bigging the frapers status up (John is Amazing, I love John, etc) or might write something more condemning (there's nothing better than someone else's nice big willy).

The former is a stupid idea to be honest. I mean, you wouldn't do graffiti and write "I AM MICHAEL PASQUALE AND I LIVE AT....etc etc. That's just stupid. Just like if you did a murder you wouldn't just leave a note saying who did it. It's stupid. You're asking for trouble.

But I'd rather be fraped by someone bigging themself up than putting me down. John's actually alright, so if people think i think John is amazing, then fine, fair enough. But if people all of a sudden thought I enjoyed eating breakfast off of a spanish man's chest, then my whole life could change.

Another issue with Frape is that there's no law against it. People who are fraped are offered no protection by the British police at all. If John writes on my status "Chickens get me going" then he gets away with it, but if I fraudulently stole some money from John's bank account then I'd be done for. I'd rather people nicked money: i have none in there anyway.

The good news is that I've never been fraped. The bad news is that people reading this that know me, (which I THINK is basically all twelve of you) are now going to be always watching, waiting to pounce on my open laptop as soon as my attention is diverted, and then just go MENTAL on my facebook account.

Closest I ever came was last night. Someone EVIL shut her laptop whilst I was on facebook and promised they'd frape me later. I managed to get her phone as collateral to try and negotiate but that was a bad idea as I ended up on my knees with my hair being violently pulled in an attempt to get to my brain for even more leverage to get the phone back. I also received various scars from pinching on my right arm. Nevertheless I resisted and eventually managed to get her to let her guard down whilst on my account, attempting to frape me. That's when I picked the wrongdo-er up and moved them so I could log out of facebook, no harm done.

Anyway, for those who wish to frape me in future, this is your warning. I will write things about you on my blog: nasty things.

And be warned, TWELVE PEOPLE READ THIS.

Blog 46: What To Write About?

I made some promises in my last blog post and I still think it would be well nice to get to 50 posts on New Year's Eve, but I actually have NOTHING to write about, so expect some filler type stuff that's not particularly great for a bit...
I watched the Notebook last night (or some of it). The person I watched it with, called Kathi, promised I'd want to turn it off after 15 minutes and I thought "no I'll give it a fair chance I'll watch the whole thing and judge fairly at the end".
After 15 minutes I wanted to turn it off. It was rubbish. I literally DID NOT CARE what happened to those two people AT ALL.
In fairness I didn't know what was going on 'cos fortunately kathi was there to talk to me; if I'd watched that much of that film on my own I would literally be dead right now, on the student sofa in my student flat, dribbling blood out the side of my mouth and with my lungs and kidneys coughed up on the floor in the corner. I really didn't like that film.
The only bits I remember from it is two old people and a fat lady in hospital, then a man lying in the road and having to run out the way of a truck (who made no attempt to slow down, which was interesting, cos I would've sped up if i knew the film coulda ended sooner) and the couple nearly having sex in a cobweb house and then two people doing a synchronized dive when being hit by a bomb. I also remember a man who had a surfboard tied to his back asking a nurse out, and I remember he said "You should know, I'm a good dancer and my intentions are completely dishonorable." Sorry half burnt cadaver boy but you ain't gonna score by telling a normal girl that you wanna go out with her purely for sex, especially when you're mostly made of bandage.
Then I remember the other man builds a nice house, and she gets proposed to by the cadaver man when he's better, who's played by cyclops from x-men, and then there's a really cool jazz guy on the stage scatting, and then I remember getting quite angry and going "I REALLY DON'T WANT TO WATCH THIS" and so we watched the beginning of Blade (which is really cool, despite being basically rubbish) and then a bit of the Mighty Boosh Live.
That's my review of the Notebook.

Blog 45: A Glorious Time Approaches...

WELL there's only 5 BLOG POSTS LEFT UNTIL THE BIG FIVE-OH! I'm extremely excited and I'm sure all 12 of my followers are as well! If they even read this, that is...
BUT, coincidentally, Christmas and New Year Approaches, as does the end of the first ever decade in this particular millenium: it's a big event... and to celebrate, the next few blogs will be ones of glorious content, colliding together on the beginning of 2010, maybe even just after midnight on New Year's Eve/New Year's Day! It's gonna be SWEEEEEET.

Keep watching: it's never been a better time to be a follower of this blog...

Blog 44: Entry 14

I spent all summer with Trevor but I didn’t really write much in the diary…I didn’t write any at all actually. I learnt a lot about Trevor whilst being with him all that time. He would like people to know that he is a boy. He’s not feminine at all, and anyone would know he’s male, but he seems to do things to make people see how manly he is. He eats really spicy food and drinks alcohol. Over summer he got a little tipsy and open mouth kissed another boy. I was surprised at this because I didn’t know Trevor knew there was such a thing as open mouth kissing. He seemed to experience a sense of shame about that so I guess that’s a sign that he’s not growing up into someone with homosexual tendencies.

This is the last Trev diary i'm afraid... at least, it is for now...

Blog 43: Entry 13

Apparently Trevor has been pretending his finger is his nipple again. I don’t know why he finds nipples so funny, but apparently he likes to flick them. Maybe this is why he hasn’t had a girlfriend for a while. We already know he can be quite speedy in relationships and give them phones. Maybe he tries to flick girl’s nipples. I can understand why this would offend a girl, but Trevor doesn’t mean it in a weird way, just in a friendly, playful way. I do feel sorry for him because he isn’t the best person in a social situation, but I think he is gradually learning and I’m proud of him for that.

Blog 42: Entry 12

Trevor is back from being ill now but he says he is really tired still. This is because he is working too hard. But he has finished now so he can stop working hard. Trevor says he didn’t throw up down his front. He says he threw up down the toilet. I don’t know why he would put his face in a toilet. He is still thinking of going to watch the new Wolverine film tonight. I think he is really excited about it. He likes films.

Blog 41: Entry 11

Trevor was sick this morning. He had stayed up too late and felt ill because of it and threw up down his front. I feel sorry for him. He didn’t come in today because I think he is still ill. We were talking about how he concentrates and pulls funny faces. Tim says he opens and closes his mouth slowly, a bit like a fish does when he is working. I think this is sweet of him. I wonder if he exercises his mouth a bit too much though and that is why he can’t speak properly.

Blog 40: Entry 10

Trevor keeps getting upset about a friend being racist about the way he talks. She isn’t really being racist though, because he does talk a bit funny. He says its South African but I spoke to my other South African friend and he says its not very South African at all. He says things like “choclit” and “aawf” instead of “chocolate” and “off”. I feel sorry for him because people have difficulty understanding him sometimes but I don’t think it’s that big a problem, and that he is doing very well with his speaking. Having said that, he just said the word “bood”. I don’t know what this word means. He is usually very good though.

Blog 39: Entry 9

Trevor just pulled Nick off his chair. I don’t know why but it could be because me and Nick were talking about his favourite animal tie and Trevor might have thought we were insulting it. He has a collection of ties with animals on it. His favourite is his one with a deer on. He calls it a springbok though. I don’t know why he calls them this. Most people call them deer. Now Trevor’s hitting Nick with a book trying to make him play but Nick is busy. I don’t think he’s upset about the tie any more because he is smiling.

Blog 38: Entry 8

Trevor was just talking about when he was feeding a squirrel and the squirrel bit his thumb because he had too much salt on his thumb. It reminded me of when Trevor was chasing squirrels around the grass and one ran up a tree. He looked all pleased with himself because he had won the game and chased the squirrel away but then the squirrel pooped on his head. Trevor says he doesn’t remember this and that he only ever got pooed on once, by a pigeon. I thought it did happen though.

Blog 37: Entry 7

My friend was just complaining about what Trevor did to her. He used to hit her with a folder and a lunch box and hide her pencil case where she couldn't reach (he is very tall and lanky and quite gangly). I think she's being a bit harsh though because he doesn't mean it in a nasty way, he is just trying to get attention and become friends with her. I think he might like her a little bit.

Blog 36: Entry 6

Trevor sometimes gets confused about things, and I feel sorry for him, but then straight afterwards he starts arguing about whose go it is on worms. He really likes it, but I still don’t know why. He keeps asking my friend when she saw him driving and then says he saw her. He doesn’t seem to realise that he would know when it was if he saw her. Now he’s talking about his new friend, but it is his driving instructor so I don’t think he’s an actual friend. We pretend that it’s good he has a friend though. If we take interest then maybe he’ll be happy. I still don’t know why he likes worms though.

Blog 35: Entry 5

I’ve just been talking to a friend, who says she saw Trevor driving once. She says it was strange because he was all bent over, and looking at the dashboard instead of out the window. She says he puts the indicator on at the last minute and then stops and sort of falls forward. She says its no wonder he hasn’t passed. I haven’t seen him drive so I don’t know and admittedly haven’t started learning myself, but somehow I don’t think Trevor should be allowed to. It’s strange that they let him, but I guess he should have equal opportunities and that.

Blog 34: Entry 4

Trevor thinks he doesn’t walk a bit funny but he does. He says he has stopped walking funny because he trained himself too. I guess he doesn’t walk as funny, but he still holds his right arm bent at the elbow and his hand flopped, with one foot turned inwards slightly.

Also he moves his head around very nervously like a bird, and his eyes are quite wide so he looks pretty wary. Sometimes he lets out a sort of shrieking noise, and it’s really loud.

Blog 33: Entry 3

Trevor is trying to hit on a girl I think, and he’s asking her what she has been up to, and trying to make conversation. I always feel a little bit sorry for him when he tries to talk to girls because he doesn’t seem to understand what is ok and what isn’t. Once, over summer, he liked a girl and wanted to give her his phone, but he hardly knew her, and me and Eric told him that it was a bit weird, so he didn’t. It was a sweet idea though, I guess.

Blog 32: Entry 2

Trevor can be quite fun sometimes, but sometimes he gets a bit angry at people. This rarely happens with me, but sometimes he does. Like one time, he wrestled another boy over toothpaste, and neither would just back down. He doesn’t mean it badly though, he is just trying to mimic banter.

Blog 31: The First Entry

Ok so I'm so excited about this Trevor diary that I couldn't wait for very long before just posting it. Here's the first entry: Enjoy!

Entry 1:

Trevor is really insecure. He’s tucked in the corner with his bag and he’s all worried that we are talking about him. He’s just found out about the diary and says not to say anything bad, so I told him we’ll only write the truth. He carried on playing with worms. I don’t know why he likes playing that so much.

Blog 30: The End is the Beginning

As a new student, having been here coming up to 3 weeks, I've changed already.

My sleeping and eating habits are bizarre. My standard day lasts from 11am to 2am, but every now and then a 9am lectures thrown into the mixer and so I get ridiculously tired. I've begun eating breakfast at midday, lunch at 5pm and dinner at 10pm, which is just wierd. Today I woke up at 12:01 exactly, got up, ate some chocolate and sat on my computer for an hour. My curtains are still shut and I'm still in my boxers.

I've already stayed up til 5 twice; one of those times I just played God of War from start to finish until 5.30, the other, I'm not really sure how I spent that long setting up a deviant art account, but I did. (If you're interested, the link http://smash-rocket-to-mars.deviantart.com/ ... shameless plugging there..)

I have no idea what the weather is like outside.

Now some of the sharper ones among you will be thinking why did he choose that title for this blog? WELL! As you may have noticed, with this blog I celebrate (by having a pot noodle) my 30th BLOG POST! But because I've been neglecting you wonderful readers for some time now due to not enough rants, I've lined up a little something special for you whilst I store up some more rants.

The next blog I post will see the start of a diary I kept about a friend of mine for a while back this year. It documents things he did and I really feel it captures his true self in a penetrative and revealing manner which no amount of film or socialising could do. So the next time I post a blog it will be the first in the series of THE TREVOR DIARIES! I'm excited.

Blog 29: City Life

City Life is sooo wierd compared to Harpenden life...

I LOVE being so near to actual shops rather than shops that only sell chocolate or thai food. I LOVE that I can nip out the house for 30 mins and get me something from WHSmith or HMV or other chain stores. I LOVE how I have 3 Maccy D's within walking distance as well as 4 subways, and as a friend discovered, about 18 Greggs. I can walk to the cinema or walk to go bowling, or walk to PC World; all of these where options unavailable to me in Harpenden, unless I had an awful lot of time.

But of course City Life has some of its downsides. It's extremely busy, which isn't too big of a problem except it never seems to die down. It doesn't matter if it's the weekend or tuesday at 11 it always seems to be relentlessly full of people. Of course, this isn't helped by the fact that some stupid people are just to ignorant and stupid to realise how busy it is. I was walking through town making good time and I (perhaps it was my fault) unknowingly slipped down the smaller left hand lane by some cordoned off for roadworks area along the main pedestrian shopping area in Leeds. And I managed to get trapped behing not 1, but 2 REALLY fat ladies. Now, I have nothing against fat people, and some of my harsher critics would say I'm one of them, but if you're majorly fat, don't walk down the middle of an alley which is only a little wider than you are. And if there's no other option then don't walk in the middle, keep to one side so I and others can get past. And if that's still not an option then walk faster! You could do with the freakin' excercise.

So after having spent an hour walking about 60 metres, I did my shopping, headed back home and kicked around for a bit. Later on my friend from Huddersfield came to stay and in the evening we went for a wander around the town.

At night, Leeds transforms into a dark wonderland. The Macdonalds are all open and full to the brim of people who are high and have the infamous munchies. However, not a single Maccy Ds were selling McFlurries that night, which was ridiculous. In the end we got a subway, which was my first ever one incidentally...

Then there was the drug using. The really blatent obvious drug using.

In Harpenden, the drug scene is pretty bad; there are so many rich kids with nothing to do so they just get high or stoned or just drunk. Therefore its safe to say I know the whole drug thing is going on.

However I didn't expect to see someone walking around on the main high street in leeds with a tube up their nose and in a plastic bag snorting the white contents right up their nostril. It caught me completely by surprise.

Then of course there was the hallucinating man. He made me laugh. From a distance we could see this staggering middle aged man going to people and showing them his hand. As we walked by he came over and said"Look what that dog did to me hand! He bit me hand! I'm gonna punch it right in it's FACE!"

I took a sneak peak at the hand. He hadn't been bitten. Also there weren't any dogs anywhere. I don't think I've seen a dog for like 6 weeks. Dogs just don't happen in Leeds. That guy was funny.

Blog 28: Life - Phase 2

University has begun. It's official. I'm halfway through Fresher's Week and I'v discovered that with a new life in a new city comes new rants, which is a bit of a relief because I haven't done one for AGES.

Anyhoo so I start my year at university with several induction talks. One of my first ones is scheduled at 11.30, so I turn up at 11.27 to find the course tutor telling everyone how this sort of lateness won't be tolerated. I look at my watch, and it says 11.27...ok so maybe my watch is wrong, I'll just fix it and then it won't happen again.

THEN he says "the sheet clearly says this began at 11.20". I look at the sheet. It clearly says 11.30.

So what, shall I just make up the times? How am I meant to know it starts at 11.20 when you told me 11.30?

So my first task at Uni is to work out what alternative time zone my tutor is living in. I know I'm quite far north compared to home but that wouldn't advocate a difference in time zone.

Anyway, then we had a talk all about something; I wasn't really paying attention because the two women giving the talk were about 50 and both had bright red hair. One was also named after the main character in Toy Story, and the other ran around the lecture hall Jerry Springer style choosing people to ask questions even if they didn't have any. I'm pretty sure she fancied herself as the next big comedian, even though NOTHING she said was funny, it only provoked looks of a quizzical nature. She even at one point said "I feel like Jack Dee!" to which I muttered, "Yes but you're not as funny."

Anyway, the Joker twins kept up this charade of a talk for 45 minutes, through which I sat, frustrated that we were being talked to as if we were 5 years old or something by Tweedle Dum and Dee from Alice in Wonderland. It reminded me of the same sentiment I felt on holiday at a camp for 16-18 year olds when a man with a wig and a flashing badge popped up one morning at breakfast claiming to be "Professor Sandwich". He then asked who remembered him from 5 years ago and two people in the room embarrassedly raised their hands in the air. Well at least two people sort of got the in joke then. He carried on his children's entertainment whilst I grew more and more annoyed that I had survived 18 years of life and GCSEs, AS and A levels, Rugby matches, stalkers, work at a supermarket, and yet I was still being treated as if I was literally a 2 year old with an awful sense of humour. He then proceeded to make a sandwich with ridiculous condiments such as toothpaste, and then eventually ate the entire thing, quite quickly, which the made him feel ill and he fell to the floor behind the counter, and some of the more sensible leaders hurriedly began to give out instructions in a brave and well-meaning but nevertheless futile attempt to cover up the unmistakable sound of Professor Sandwich being sick.

I didn't finish my breakfast that day.

Blog 27: University Approaches

On the 20th August, I find out what grades I get at A-Level and wether I go to University or not in September. And if I do get in, I have to uproot my whole life and just move away. It's like going on holiday, except for 4 years, and you don't just take some clothes, you take pretty much everything you own, plus some other stuff you buy.

The thing is, I'm just not ready! I'm only 18! How am I supposed to survive on my lonesome?

It's insane. I can tell what will happen. For the first term I will just get really ill off a bad diet, and then by winter, I will catch swine flu and in my already feeble bad-diet state, I will probably die, and then nobody will notice me for years, and eventually some Alsatians will eat me a' la Bridget Jones. 

So by September I need to know how to cook, how to wash clothes and stuff, how to iron (although I might just not)...pretty much how to do everything.

Oh, and apparently, unless you're like the richest guy ever, you WILL go into debt at uni. So I'll have to do all this on £0. 

Most kids apparently spend £40 on alcohol a month; that's the average anyway. What a load of rubbish. They deffo spend more than that. However, because I'm not a massive drinker, I can use this money more effectively, like comics, or DVDs, or PS2 games, or even chocolate. 

So by next year, my plans are to; have wasted my first year without learning much; run out of money; have no friends; be robbed; be beaten up; and of course, to have died of swine flu.

Yippee.

Blog 26: Long Road to 50

This rant is all about obesity and exercise.

The government is planning on putting a tax on chocolate. My loyal followers, numbering 11, will all shout "OH NO YOU'VE RANTED ABOUT THIS BEFORE" and yes I have, it's true (Blog 17 if you're interested. 

BUT it wasn't until last Thursday that I realised the TRUE reason behind this problem.

The Government is talking about taxing chocolate, and television is junk food ad free, but last Thursday in my hour PE lesson, I did 8 minutes exercise. That meant I was sitting there or getting changed for the other 52 minutes. 

I think I've found the REAL problem. 

The PE staff at my school are incredibly disorganised. If there is one staff member missing, we all get sent home instead of PE. 

Once, my class got changed, ran outside, got a ball out and two goals and started playing football, and a PE teacher came out and told us that we had to go home; there isn't enough staff. We asked if we could play football by ourselves, and the answer was no. Our hour of exercise went out the window, and instead we walked home.

More recently they have decided to split us into 3 groups for 3 different sports, rather than many more groups which would end up with teacher "lackage". They choose rounders, which girls own boys at in our school, tennis, for which we have 3 courts, and basketball, another three courts.

I chose basketball, and they play a tournament every week, of 4 minute matches, and full size court which means there is one court at a time.

Last week, not only am I already playing tiny 4 minute matches, but they decided to give us a talk about the new school gym, and how much membership would cost (even though we helped pay for it in the first place.)

Now, I don't go to the gym, but if I did, I would be put off by the fact that it costs more than the actual gym in our town. The school prides itself over its better machinery, but, a running machine is a running machine, (and I can do that outside). SO i wasted my entire hour listening to a load of useless crap, EXCEPT of course for the 8 minutes of exercise I had. 

My heart rate raised itself more just typing this. 

Blog 25: SPECIAL 25TH BLOG!!!!

It's time for a miniature celebration as I reach my 25th Blog! I know it's not 50 or 100, but...well it's 25! 

To celebrate I have some more letters. This is the extent of my wrongdoings at primary school. But it is a tale I love to tell and it is done in a way I've never done before; through the letters of my old headmistress.

Here we go!

9 February 2000

Dear Mr & Mrs Pasquale

I am afraid that Michael has had his name entered in the behaviour book for the third time and as a result has been given a yellow report card.

This card has to be signed by me at the end of each day and this may mean that he will be a few minutes later coming out of school.

He must achieve five consecutive days of good reports before the card will be withdrawn. In the meantime I am afraid that he is not entitled to stay for any after school clubs to which he may belong.

If you would like to know the reasons for the entries in the behaviour book I will be happy to talk to you about them.

Yours sincerely

(Headmistress)

I don't remember why I got in the "Black Book" as we called it.

I remember I once got in there for drawing a snowman with a speech bubble coming from its bottom reading "fart", although wether this was the same year and therefore one of the three entries, I can't remember.

Anyway, I was worried. My parents would KILL me if they found out about this, I thought, so I did the clever thing.

I didn't show it to them and lived out my sentence without them knowing.

I got away with it for a while.

The closest shave was when my mum came into school on National Reading Day or something and saw me outside the Headmistress' office, but I quickly tucked the yellow card behind my back and said I was there for a "Well Done" sticker, the highest reward.

I did my time, and everything went back to normal, until parent's evening, which went a little something like this.

Teacher: "Hello Mr Pasquale, Mrs Pasquale. Hi, Michael. 

Take a seat, please.

Now, as you well know, Michael has been on a yellow report card this term-"

Mum: "WHAT?"

Mike: (Oh crap)

SO I got found out in the end.

And consequently another letter got sent out.

17 February 2000 (That's a whole 8 days I got away with it for!)

Dear Mr & Mrs Pasquale,

I was concerned to hear from Mrs B last night that you were not aware that Michael was on a yellow card.

When a child is put on a card I write a letter to the parents informing them and giving them the opportunity to discuss the matter with me. I have questioned Michael this morning regarding the letter that I wrote on the 9 February and he has admitted (note she only found it 'cos I told her) that he hid it behind a bookcase in the library (HA! Vive la revolution!) We have retrieved it and I am enclosing it with this letter.

He should have come off his card today but in view of what has happened I feel he should stay on it for another week. I think Mrs B probably explained why he was on it in the first place but if you still want to discuss the matter with me I am happy to arrange a time convenient to us both.

Yours sincerely

(Headmistress)

AND THAT is the saga of the yellow report card. It's one of my favorite adventures.

Blog 24: Some more from little Me

Lets see some more from the little book of secrets, shall we?

This is the saga of my worst enemy.

Funny thing is I didn't even remember I didn't like her until I read this.

I laughed.

Friday 18th Feb 2000

I don't like sitting next to Tanie because she fidgets and leans all over me. She also rocks on her chair. She fusses and we're always the last table. She's always chatting with Christina. Can you move her please.

(No date)

Tanie still fidgets and I'm getting bored. Please let me sit somewhere else? Can I?

(Teacher: NO)

(No date)

Please PLEASE let me sit somewhere NOT next to Tanie.

(Teacher: NO!)

(No date)

Let me sit somewhere else, NOT next to Tanie and if you don't my mums coming in for a chat (OOO) So let me sit next to ANYONE but Tanie. I don't mind sitting next to ANY girl or ANY boy as long a its not TANIE or SAM or MICHAEL C or LAURA (Haha)

(No date)

LOOK ON THE BACK AND LET ME MOVE!

By the way, if you are Tanie, or even Sam, Michael C or Laura, then I am sorry for being a git when I was small.

Blog 23: Secrets...

In primary school we were made to write a book of secret messages to our teachers so they could help us, I guess, but at that age I never had any REAL issues. I've found the diary, and it makes for fun reading, especially some of the teacher comments.

Entry 1, Friday 7th January 2000

Problems: MC, DJ, WJ, JO are all spoiling story time (damn them) 

I don't want to sit with girls (Good plan, that's where swine flu comes from)

I want to be in Italy team. (I'm Italian)

Rachel does not know manchester is a town. She thinks its a country. She also copies me.

Teacher: We will try and sort you out but I'm sorry, you're in Spain!

12 January 1999 (odd date order, but that's what it says)

Daniel is spoiling our table and we're fed up.

Teacher: Try not to complain about other children, think of all the good things they bring to the class.

(No Date)

Loads of people are blaming ME! (school and home)

Teacher: Tell me more - we'll try and make you happier.

Me: Why?

Teacher: Because I don't like people being unhappy. (You wouldn't like my boss, he loves making people unhappy)

This next one makes me laugh.

Friday 4th February

I got told off yesterday for annoying girls but I did NOT.

Teacher: Is this what you were all cross about, yesterday. (incorrect grammar) I think somehow we've got to sort you all out none of you seem very happy with each other.

This basically means, translated out of PC teacher talk, "You're really grumpy for no obvious reason. You need to stop it because EVERYONE HATES YOU." 

I don't blame them I was a right little twerp.

More to follow.

Blog 22: A New Angle?

Most of my blog posts have been rants. SO when my mum decided to drag out a lot of my old stuff from when I was at primary school, I thought I'd write some happy posts every once in a while to uplift the mood, and I thought I'd start with a letter from my headmaster.

15 July 1999

Dear Mr & Mrs Pasquale,
I am writing to you on behalf of (Better blank out the name in case it gets illegal or something) School concerning an incident I dealt with yesterday.

As you may well know I do tend to look upon minor pranks and misdeeds as "boys will be boys" (what if they're pranks done by girls) and tend to deal with them as I believe most parents would. However, even I feel that a serious incident such as happened yesterday cannot be overlooked and needs to be brought to your attention.

Your son Michael (That's Me!) was involved in an act of vandalism against property. Fortunately for our school I do not think (and hope) that (Church X) staff are aware of what happened. If the Reverend B had become aware of the incident I feel that he would be within his rights to withdraw permission for us to use the church in the future. At this time (Miss R) was unaware of the extent of the vandalism - had she and (Mrs H) realised the damage that has been done it would have ruined their evening and deeply saddened them. 

I will leave you to talk to your son about the incident and have him write a letter of apology to (Miss R). We as a school will write a letter of apology to the (Reverend B)

I would like to say that the children were all very honest about the incident, which really pleased me.

If you feel that you would like to come and talk to me privately about the incident please do call in.

Yours sincerely 

(Mrs C)

...

What did I do?

Well, me and some other guys wet some toilet paper and threw it on the ceiling so it got stuck up there.

We're off the freakin' chain.

Blog 21: Tweet Tweet

Recently I have gotten myself a twitter account. In hindsight I don’t know why. For those of you who perhaps haven’t heard of this new internet craze that is sweeping the world wide web by storm, basically, it’s like a site DEDICATED to facebook statuses… You just write what you’re doing.
The problem is, you have a limited amount of letters, which means you hv2 abbrvt unecsrly and write only a little bit of what you are doing. If you’re writing an essay, listening to Guns N’ Roses and chatting to a friend on facebook, you have to choose one or the other, you’re not allowed to do all three.
I don’t know why they’re so tight about that.
Also, unless you’re someone famous, (like I’m subscribed to Russell Brand’s, although I never have time to read it) you’re not going to be doing much of interest. I’ve often just typed in, basically because if I didn’t I’d feel bad, that I’m “not doing much” or I’m doing homework. Big woop, I’m sure the entire globe wants to know that.
Also, on the rare occasion that you are doing something interesting, say like skydiving, you’re gonna be too involved in that to even whip out your iPhone and tell twitter, so by the time you come to write what you’re doing, all you’re doing is being on twitter…
Having said all this, I still have a twitter account. I’ll probably go write “I’ve just posted a blog” on there right now.

Blog 20: Mishearings

Justice sometimes can be so infuriatingly screwed up. The worst thing EVER is being told off for something someone else did, or something that didn’t even happen.
The other day me and some friends were walking down the corridor and chatting, and then a teacher from half way down the corridor behind us told us off for our language…thing is, we didn’t know what it was that we said. We thought about it and concluded that she had misheard me saying “freakin” and had a go. It really annoyed me, ‘cos she was really cross and shouted at us, and she doesn’t even know whats going on. She was quite far away, and we were talking in the other direction, there were other kids having chats there as well and it was easy for her to mishear words, as she did, yet she still had a go as if she knew exactly what we said.
I don’t think we should bring back the death penalty if that’s what happens.

Blog 11: An Imposter Extremist!

You may notice that I have no blog 11 on my blog. This was because I removed it to prevent the victim of the rant from finding it, as I am clearly a two-faced git.
However, I saved it on my computer with the intention of republishing it once I arrived at Uni and no longer knew the victim.
Well, cleverly, my computer wiped it, so although this may appear to be the same, it is merely an imposter.
Here we go...
God creates the Earth in 6 days, rests on the 7th. God creates man and woman and gives them free will.
This bit is important.
Man USES free will!!! (gasp)
Now some Christians think that they, as a superior in holiness levels (because of some bizarre notion in there minds that they are after all higher than God AND the Pope) have the right to rid us of this free will.
Don't get me wrong, I am a Christian, and I have nothing against my own religion. I'm against extreme Christians who give the rest of us Christians a bad name. When extremist Christians come to you telling you you can't watch a film due to the sex scene it gets ridiculous.
The other day I was watching Watchmen with friends and for those who have seen it, it has a pretty dodgy sex scene in it. It's an amazing film, stylistically made, good acting by actors essentially unseen elsewhere. The next day I ask Mister Higher-than-the-Pope himself if he enjoyed what he'd seen of said film, and was surprised when he said "No, I didn't need to see all that nudity really." It still didn't click with me that he'd stormed out in the nudity scene, until break time when he came and told me that as Christians we shouldn't be watching that sort of thing because it doesn't teach good morals.
IT'S A FILM!
IT'S NOT REAL!
He says that he doesn't like sex scenes if they aren't done tastefully.
However, after my initial annoyance (which lasted 3 months) i took pleasure in the fact that Sin City is the film adaptation of his favourite graphic novel and also has dodgy sex scenes in it, he would say. I told him Sin City is really good except the sex scene and he said "yeah I don't really want to see it though."

Whatever.

What's really wierd is that one of his favourite films is Sweeney Todd, as if throat slashing is ok but sex isn't.
But its not the only thing he's ever done to annoy me.
He told me off for listening to the Rolling Stones.
He sent my self conscious and unconfident (but wonderful) friend a letter asking why she doesn't treat him like she treats me, and that me and her are closer than he and her, and why is this? (Hrmmmm, probably because she doesn't want to be treated like a cat, so stop petting her and see how that goes) This was followed by a phone call which made her feel pressurized into promising she'll change.
He hugs and pets this girl and tells her he imagines her napping even though they don't really get on and she is CLEARLY uncomfortable with it all.
AND other stuff as well.
Anyhoo, I'll post this up when I no longer know the guy, but I get the feeling he'd know who he is if he ever read this.
SO Yeh, i'm two faced and I'm bitchin' now, but if he is reading this then maybe he'll take a hint...
Or more than a hint as it turns out.

Blog 19: Prescribed Fun

Why do I get myself into the stupidest situations?

My mum and my sister decided to go away to a camp during the Easter holidays to get her used to half-extreme sports such as rock climbing, abseiling, etc, and being the adventurous person that I am I thought that there could be no harm in a little abseiling trip.

I mentioned to my sister that the trip sounded like fun, and it would be pretty fun. My mum asked if I would like to go, I said “why not” and then asked nothing more of it.

The time came that we had to leave. All happy that we were off on a little excursion, I hopped in the car with my laptop, music, stuff to read, an Iron Man DVD and off we went as if we were straight out of a Cliff Richard song.

In the car when we were about half hour away, I asked my mum to see the brochure, and then it dawned on me that we were off to a family activity place, set up mainly for children and their parents, where you were forced to have fun, or else. My stomach twisted, lurched...I panicked. “What have I done?” I asked myself.

On arrival, I found that the place we were staying was basically a Gulag, as shown in the photos and videos. It was scary. Blue-garbed guards patrolled around; one had a Mohawk which was all red and tall and I didn’t like him one bit. The guard who guarded us was called Mawry or something, and decided to offer me some orange squash on arrival, despite my obvious beard, and also was kind enough to knock on my door 10 minutes before 7.30 to let me know that dinner was in 10 minutes time, as if I couldn’t work out that dinner at the predestined time of 7.30 was going to be at 7.30.

Dinner itself sucked; it was the sort of dinner you’d give someone that you wouldn’t mind annoying or not treating very well because you know they’ll die during the night anyway.

Later that evening, which is as I write this, I was invited to join in activities and play with my 4 year old “peers” in an evening of prescribed fun. It all sounded jolly, but unfortunately I had to try and go on the internet to escape the reality of where I was.

Foolishly, I forgot that the place we were at was in the middle of nowhere, Lincolnshire, and of course, phone reception and wireless internet access is still something from the Terminator films out here.

So I stayed in a while, until I was intrigued to go outside to see if I could find reception elsewhere.

Outside was haunting. Although I knew inside that the screams were of joy, I couldn’t tell whether they were actually joyful, or screams of people dying. It was horrible, and I mean it without any exaggeration at all. The heavy spotlights beaming down on me, casting areas in deep shadow and other areas in bright piercing light, again, like a Gulag or death camp, and the tall “high ropes” course like a sentry tower, as shown in the pictures, together with the screams made me feel very frightened to be honest, so I walked (briskly) back to my deserted 6 bed room, complete with dust, one duvet and pillow, and half eaten skittle, and sat down on a mattress on the floor and typed this up. I can still hear screaming from outside.

Blog 18: Social Butterfly, or Wasp?

I have a saturday job, which I have ranted in relation to before, and you may have read all about my unencouraging boss. You may even remember the intellectual comment from Mr. Li, my medical sidekick, about how he agreed.
Well this is sort of a follow up rant about that very same boss.

I'm quite a talkative guy, as you may have been able to tell from the endless chatter on this blog, and this gets me into trouble at times at work, as I chat more than work sometimes. However, it has become somewhat exaggerated by the bosses.

3 or 4 times in a year I have been told to not chat...I think that's pretty good...
However, apparently, this is too much, and it has become apparent to my boss that I am something of a troublemaker.

So now he thinks I'm behind everything...and I'm unfairly treated as a result. For example, I now frequently put eggs out (they're on a different aisle) so I am seperated from others. Similarly I have to put fish out whilst the boss is upstairs in the morning, and whilst everyone else is the other end of the aisle, again being seperated.
Moreover, twice I have been told off for being, like 3 or 4 minutes late to work even though I have a colleague who was an HOUR AND A HALF late and got off scot free 'cos she apologised. I even worked ten minutes after my usual finish time to make up for it...yet its not good enough...
The other instance was when my colleague went up for lunch (we have an hour) and then I went up a couple of minutes later...
I came down 1h3mins later, and he came 2 minutes after that...guess who gets told off?

The other day we were all restacking a cage, which for some reason my colleague decided to set up a rather impressive conveyor belt system, only with people, and when my boss' boss saw us, he told our boss, and guess who got told off? Me. As if I was in charge, or the ringleader, when the reality is I was manipulated into it.

I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his judgement. Maybe it's my long hair, or my reluctance to shave for work, or perhaps the Che Guevara wrist band I occasionally wear.

I only wear it because it has nice colours.

Blog 17: Fatty Mc Fat Fat

The GOVERNMENT is talking about putting a tax on chocolate to reduce child obesity.
As if that is the single thing affecting the weight of kids nowadays; mcdonald's ain't nuthin to do with it, and neither is lack of excersise, it's all freaking chocolate?
I know the real reason for child obesity. It's simple:
We all remember the days (heck I still get 'em) when we're in our PE lesson and we're made to play a sport which we're not good at. The sporty kids, yeh, woo-hoo, they're amazing, they have loads of fun, yippy doo excellent well done have a rabbit.
HOWEVER, the less sporty kids are left alone, not being picked for teams, not having the ball passed to them, and therefore not being able to run and get excersise, and also becoming depressed at a) the fact they suck, and b) the fact that nobody likes them cos they suck.
SO what do they do? They get all upset and everyone knows the ONLY solution to depression is eating. They begin to eat.
The more they eat, the fatter they get. The fatter they get, the less able they are at sport, the less they get passed to, the less happy they are with themselves, the more depressed they are, the more they eat, and so on.
It's a vicous circle.

Blog 16: Teacher Creature

I was much annoyed recently by my art teacher telling me that unless I understand how to draw a realistic human skeleton structure, I am not able to draw angels and demons.

...

When was the last freakin' time she saw an angel/demon, dissected it and removed the skeleton succesfully without it breaking, and did the exact same to a human, and then compared them to realise that angel skeletons are exactly the same as that of a human...

I was also told a doodle of the Hulk wasn't realistic enough...perhaps 'cos it was unnaturally large and also of a green colouring...(?)

IT'S A FREAKING SCIENCE FICTION CHARACTER, HE'S NOT GOING TO ABIDE BY THE CONVENTIONS OF AN AVERAGE HUMAN SKELETON!!!!

Much annoyed.

FURTHERMORE, when looking up on some artists that they had recommended I look at, I found this picture, on the left.

So apparently, essentially a big green human is less realistic than little babies with big heads and goggle eyes being fired like bullets from a gun is a perfectly acceptable and realistic concept in modern day life, and I should snap back to reality, get with the times, and start drawing observationally like a proper artist...

I'd like to add that whereas a teacher earns, say £25,000 to £30,000 a year, whereas Frank Miller's Sin City as a film made $158,753,820 in revenue (at a cost of $40,000,00): that's just one of his projects. Think about how much money his entire life's work made for him, and then come and tell me I'm wasting my time, learn to stick pictures from google on a page and paint coffee on them.

Chew on that, teacher creatures.

Blog 15: The End?

This may be my shortest and least ranting blog EVER!

I got a new phone and a new number, so the silly italian stalker can't text me now. HAHAHA!
Victory tastes so sweet.

Blog 14: Part 2 of Terror Mail

Skip the intro: if you have no idea what this is about, read blog 12 and 13, and then you will.

THE SECOND LETTER to fall through my letterbox was similar in length. It was a reply. Naive and Ignorant as I was, I replied to the first letter (although didn't answer some queries like "my favourite animal or colours of my flowers) and in due course received a second.
Let's read some shall we?

"Don't worry for late letter. (I remember at first I couldn't be bothered to reply until my Dad made me) You successful exams?...Very happy for to the passion for graphic. We are graphic, fantastic. (Hang on; just 'cos your name is Tits Von Titbank doesn't mean we are graphic!)
Where do you go on holiday? I go to the sea and mountains (and roam in the wilderness with my monkey friends and eat raw fish and prawns on wood) is very beautiful.
What your favourite food in Harpenden? (so you do know the name of the town, you just address it as Harpender for kicks) Do you like peugcent (I can't make out the word) Parlami un po di te (meaning tell me a little about yourself...no thanks)
Do you like horror film? (Why, are you the next serial killer?) What are you going to wear? (?) What you like to wear?"

She then repeats herself about what she likes to wear, see first letter in Blog 13.

"Whats your favourite dog? (?) My favourtie dog is Saturdog (Oh...you mean DAY)."

Now, I said earlier that in my first (and only) reply I decided not to answer the question about animals, or colours, assuming she was just practicing english, and she won't be THAT bothered if I didn't tell her, because it's just not what us grown ups talk about. (It's a leopard and it's green)
So, she then writes;

"Whats the favourite animal?
Whats the favourite colour?
I think che sei (that you are) very nice (...)
Puoi (Can you) spend one you foto? thanks."

DON'T WORRY I DID NOT SEND HER A PHOTO.
This letter and some wierd texts that I have mentioned in Blog 12 led me to believe the woman was crazy, and therefore to stop writing.

And then came one of the most worrying letters ever.


"Hello!
Why you haven't to asked sms and call? What's successful?
S hope che you haven't successful (?)
You writting immediately, I am very very worry (it took me ages to figure out it says worry. It looks like wong, wony, wany, but not worry) for you!
I write very little because I don't know come mai (why you haven't) you haven't writting.
P.S. you letter didn't arrive my home, you l'hai writting a me?"

The letter fortunately wasn't written in her own feces, but I expect the next one will be.

Blog 13: A Follow Up

I was rifling through my stuff, clearing out my room of all the crap like my history coursework, girl's numbers, you know, all the rubbish that I don't need...
and I came across 3 letters, addressed to me, with the tell-tale Italian stamps that could only mean it was the letters of the stalker...(you might need to read blog 12)
I remember keeping onto them so that if I ever needed to sue or something it could be evidence...
ANYHOO, I thought I'd type up some extracts just so you can really experience the mental.
One thing I found funny was my address on the front. "Harpender" is not a place, and she must have realised this after a while, so she changed it to "Harpende". I laughed.
Anyhoo, let's take a little look shall we? I shall comment in brackets.

"Hello!
My name is _________ nickname is titti (?).,(nice punctuation there tits mcgee) I'm 17 yeoars old and you? my favourite band is Somohe is very beautiful. (?)
My favourite colour (you're 17?) is red and pink (that's two). I haven't brother and sister.
My date of birthday is ____ and you? (again with the and you?) I live is _________is very beautiful. I sono (ok, just shove some italian in there. Is it that hard to write "am"?) height 1,63. My colour hair is short brown...I sono very thin, and you? (no comment)
I like wearing: trousers, T-shirt, boots, belt, con (your guess is as good as mine).
I didn't like jeans. (?)
What's the weather like in London (well I live in Harpender so I clearly don't know at this point. Why don't you google it, like I'd have to?)"

This goes on. I've written half a sheet of A5 in her handwriting here. The letter is 1 and 3/4 sheets.

Some other funny things asked of me are;
"What favourite animals? My favourite animals is: dog, robbit, kangaroon, cat, koala, bird. I have two goldfish. And you have animals?"
"You have a nintendo DS?"

Other things I learnt were "My house is very big with garden rich flowers colours: red, yellow, purple."

That was the FIRST of 3 letters, and many texts.

The second and third letter will feature later....WATCH THIS SPACE. Right now I'm off to watch a film...

Blog 12: Rational Fears

So a funny tale;
It all began when my Dad, who is Italian, told his mother (my nan) that her friend's daughter could have my address and phone number so I could be her pen friend.
He never asked me, so when a letter came through from a certain Italian girl who knew my address, and knew what my plans for the future were, I was slightly put out.
In fact, I freaked out. But this was after I read the letter.
The letter itself, although barely comprehensible due to the horrid mix of Italian and non-English, began normally.
However, it very quickly digressed into a question and answer sesh, which firstly I didn't care about and secondly was too wierd.
An example question would be "I have a garden with flowers that are blue and white and yellow, and you?"
I couldn't tell you what colour flowers are in my garden unless I went outside and looked, and even if I knew, I wouldn't think that anyone else gives a carnation about it.
Anyway, so 'cos I'm quite nice, I wrote back, and answered the questions that weren't too scary.
And she wrote back again, and because I am busy and have no care in the world for what books she has in her room "and you?" I didn't write back for a while (and eventually for ever).
Then the texts began. Constant texts unless I replied asking why I hadn't.
Again at first I answerd about 5, but on the 5th she asked me what I thought of her nickname "Titti" and how I imagined her.
That was it.
I didn't answer.
Despite the 18 texts in one monday afternoon from about 5.30 until 2 in the MORNING, I did not respond.
These texts would frequently be followed by a phone call and then her putting the phone down, just so my ringtone went off and I knew I had a text. I don't understand what isn't hint enough about 3 months of not responding. TRUST ME, I'VE LOOKED AT MY PHONE AT LEAST ONCE IN THOSE THREE MONTHS. I'M NOT ANSWERING.
The texts still came, and kept coming until I decided to take action.
I spoke to my Dad, who spoke to my nan, who spoke to psycho girl's mum who presumably spoke to her because it stopped (although not after a voice message which revealed her voice to be something not to dissimilar from Bruce Willis', but just a TAD less girly.)
I was finally free.

Or so I thought.

Months later. My guard was down. I was watching some TV and something buzzed in my pocket.
"What's that?" I asked quizzically, and pulled out my phone.
I realised with great joy I had received a text from...wait a minute...+39...not+44? Wait that...that is an ITALIAN NUMBER OH NO IT'S DOOM AGAIN.
I read the text, where she quite emotionally asked why I didn't respond. She asked if something happened. I decided to leave it, and play it as if I had died. That way she'd eventually leave me alone.
Nope. She rang and hung up.
And again, JUST TO MAKE SURE.

And then it did stop.

And that is the story of my mental Italian stalker I had and possibly still have. But all this made me wonder...what is going through that girl's mind right now?
She's probably in her backgarden burying a pebble with "Mike" written on it in mud, whilst weeping. Then she'll probably go home, have dinner, then go out about town and eat somebody's leg.
But whatever she is doing, hopefully she doesn't text me...

"I ate some very nice human leg today. Gypsie is my favourite....and you?"

By the Way, Blog 11 was taken off due and re-submitted later on due to reasons explained IN blog 11. It's there though, somewhere between Blog 19 and 20...

Blog 10: New Year, New Rants (Finally)

HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!
Ok, first, I must make my apologies to my loyal fan club of TWO...
I'm sorry I haven't ranted for a long time...
I do have some rants now though so I can whack 'em up...
Get ready for the first rants of 2009...

So, my first rant is at the WORLD GOING MAD with privacy invasion. Obvious example is the banning of TRAINSPOTTERS; I know there is potentially a risk, but Timmy El Nerd isn't going to be it is he?
Trainspotters if anything can HELP against terrorism because they can spot things wrong with trains. We should utilise this (arguably wierd) hobby for the better. Not ban them.
I mean, ok I don't know what would possess someone to pursue this hobby, but if they enjoy it, fair enough, let 'em get on with it.
Leave 'em alone.

Another example is the recent suspension and discussed expulsion of students who joined a group on facebook declaring their dislike for a teacher of theirs. This happened in a school in London, which I won't name, but although I was completely unaffected as with Trainspotters, I got a bit annoyed.
Firstly, how was this discovered? It's illegal for a teacher to be in this sort of social contact with pupils until they have left school, and you can't look at what groups people are in without them accepting you as a friend...
Even if thats manageable legally (perhaps through old pupils at the school) it is a STUDENT SOCIAL WBSITE. Ok, if a teacher wants in, fine, but they cannot complain if they discover that they are unpopular with pupils. SOME PEOPLE ARE. Get used to it.
Thirdly, these pupils have a right to express their opinions; hence the FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION in this country. THIS MEANS THAT as long as they are not inciting hatred towards a person or group, or violence, they can say whatever they want.
An example would be if a man was to say "I hate frogs" (for arguments sake), then (if frogs had the same rights as us) THAT would be absolutely ok. If he had said "I hate frogs, let's go kill 'em all"- That is when it becomes illegal.
SUSPENDING PUPILS FOR JOINING THE GROUP WE HATE MRS SO AND SO IS NOT ILLEGAL.
Get on with it.