Blog 123 - My Cow Experience

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i47HoiM0Au8

Watch this, but beware it's got strong language plus some pretty disturbing stuff is said.
And then I'm gonna rip her apart the only way I know how. Point by point dissection of what she says swivel kicked into her silly little head. She'll never read this, because she's probably illiterate. But I'll write it anyway.

It begins "what's this country come to, a load of black people and a load of ____ing polish?" she then slurs a bit, and goes "see what I mean?"

Instantly, and I'm not Sherlock Holmes, we can see she's not all there. I mean, 1) she can't talk, and 2) anyone else think it'd be silly to sit there slagging off foreigners on a tram full of foreigners? She even goes on to point out everyone who's not english. Good idea.

Next up, "sort out your own countries, don't come and see mine. Britain's nothing now...my britain is F__ all now, britain is F__ all."
Cos of people like you.

When it's pointed out to her that there's little kids, she says "yeah fine, I've got a little kid here". You shouldn't.

"go back to where you come from, go back to F__ing niggagriga" (or something). So she didn't get an A for geography, I imagine. At this point the guy behind her stands up and I'm so annoyed at the person next to him cos this woman needs a slap.

The african woman points out that if they weren't here to do the jobs they do, they wouldn't get done. Which is definitely true. The racist goes mental saying that she works and this is her British country, and that the african woman isn't british because she's black.

Then the other english woman goes sick on the racist which is wicked. Good for her.

How many times will people have to keep reminding people like this that nobody's pure english anymore. In fact, it's because england was so rubbish that we're a mix of almost all of Europe. Britain's greatest time was probably the British Empire (made up of lots of different countries) and that was WAY after pure englishness had been lost in a sea of french, spanish, italian, german, scandinavian etc.

Sorry this post is a bit serious. But this blog's mainly for me, to be honest. And my one reader, James :P

Blog 122: Random Romance

This is a blog with a bit of a difference... and maybe it's a possible twist from a teenager's ranting blog into a grown man's (because apparently that's what I am now) more grown up blog. Don't worry, I'm not going to start writing about politics, and hopefully it won't actually be serious or anything, but instead of undirected rants and attacks on those around me, perhaps this blog can bring more to people who read it and make some kind of point?

Or perhaps not. Let's see shall we?

Maybe it's just me in my lonely little room who sometimes, very occasionally, completely over reacts when the smallest attention is payed to me by a pretty girl. For example, I've basically fallen in love with a girl on my course (actually to be fair, she doesn't give me any attention... she's just amazing) and I don't know her name and I've never ever spoken to her. Not to mention the Chicken Stock girl you may remember from my stories (have I ever posted that in a blog?) who laughed at one of my jokes, and I decided I would make it my life's mission to make her my wife. Needless to say, that fell apart after about a week, when I realised she just laughed out of politeness, and out of 10 there was 0 chance of her ever being interested. Don't forget the woman in NYC who I never even saw, I just heard her voice behind me, and I instantly fell in love with her because of it.

But I have spoken to other people who get the same thing (sort of). And so it must be more common than just me wandering around falling in love with everyone all the time. So I thought I'd write something nice just to capture those feelings, however stupid they are, just because it's funny and I'm very bored more than anything else. And so here it is. I call it "Letter to the Girl in Wilko"

To the girl in Wilko who told me that you have no facepaint left in stock,

Firstly, don't worry that you had none left, I understand that it's not your fault, and obviously, due to the fact that I was looking for some the day after Hallowe'en, it was probably my bad timing that was the root of the problem. I'm sure you haven't been upset about not being able to find me any but in case you were, I'd like you to know that it doesn't bother me.

Secondly, and I hope this doesn't seem to forward, but I think I might love you. For those brief 10 seconds where we exchanged words, you looked at me and it was at that moment that I fell deeply into the biggest, bluest, most beautiful eyes that I've ever encountered in all my time on this earth.

I never believed in magic up until today, but when I met you, albeit briefly, I knew that no normal earthly force could have conceived you and that you must have been the creation of something super or even supra natural.

Now I'm not the most confident of men, and obviously I'm not James Bond, partly because he's a fictional character, but also because I'm not a secret agent. In fact, I'm just some guy who lives in a small room, draws pictures for his relatively unimpressive university degree, and occasionally watched films or plays on his X-box 360. Because of this, there's no way that I can even begin to think of any reason why you would want to talk to me. For this reason, I didn't try and speak to you longer, I didn't ask you out, I didn't get your number and I didn't tell you how incredibly gorgeous you look despite the tacky wilko uniform. And so instead, I went home and wrote this letter which you'll never ever see.

I wish I could be more confident, but I'm not. So instead of getting to know you and entering into what could have been an incredible time in my life, I returned home with my newly purchased toaster and I sat down and wrote this. And after this I'll probably make my self some beans on toast (and see how good the toaster is) and then carry on playing the new batman game.

Maybe one day I'll pluck up the courage to talk to you, maybe you'll somehow find me interesting and maybe something will happen. But I doubt it. However, I thought I'd write all these feelings down, because it would be wrong if they were to be lost forever.

Blog 121: Astro-Nots

So, I'm in third year. The last year of my course. And guess what! They're actually giving us work and it ALSO seems relatively worth doing! So there's nothing that could possibly wind me up about my course anymore. OH WAIT.

You know Godzilla, right? You know how angry he was at the Japanese for some reason. Well I'm like, 70 times angrier than him right now.

Our 'workshop' today was on copy writing, and it was by a woman who I won't name, but is a professional copy writer. This has nothing to do with copyrights, it's basically the writing behind advertising, or a brand's tone of voice. Now this woman had given us a lecture before, on the importance of spelling and - and read this carefully - grammer. So I had my doubts about how useful this workshop would be.

Well, at first, the slideshow she had seemed relatively useful, although it could have just been sent online and I could have, well, not watched it, but pretended to have done so and watched Die Hard 2 instead. It's what came AFTER the slideshow that worried me.

We had a series of tasks: the first was to describe the bedrooms of three celebrities: Stephen Fry, Kate Moss and Brad Pitt. Here were my descriptions:

Brad Pitt's bedroom: Jennifer Anniston's in the corner, crying.

Stephen Fry's bedroom: Quite Interesting.

Stephen Fry's bedroom: It's painted pink, but that's not gay. Oh wait, it is.

Kate Moss' bedroom: Mind you don't trip over Pete, he's nearly dead on the floor.

Kate Moss' bedroom: Smells like whore!

Kate Moss' bedroom: Where's her make up drawer? Oh, there it is. All over her face.

Kate Moss' bedroom: So big it's like finding an overly skinny model in a haystack.

Turns out I got the wrong idea, and I literally had to describe their room. Like Kate Moss' room is pink with cushions on the bed and a dress on the floor. Creative.

The Next task was even better. Three students pretended to be returning Astronaut's, one Russian and the others supposedly British, from a 24 year trip to mars and back. The rest of us were journalists and we had to ask questions, like a press conference. We then had to make notes.

This wasn't a real space trip. Yet somehow I've got half a page of notes on what happened when they went to Mars, as if it was real. I wasted actual time, paper, energy and sanity on something that definitely didn't happen. They told us that their test-monkey, Brian, had died. I wrote in my book, "Brian died". I actually wrote it as if it really happened.

What's more, none of it made any sense? So, assuming the two other astronauts are English, as we weren't told otherwise, and they left 24 years ago, so 1987, well I'm pretty sure the British weren't in Space by then. A quick check on Google (Google chrome just told me to spell check google) tells me the first Brit in space was in 1991. So that's balls.

Maybe they're American. That seems logical, Neil Armstrong was the first on the moon, so it's logical that the first man on Mars in the 1980s was probably American. Obviously, ignore the context of world history in the 1980s, that massive thing called the COLD WAR, where Russia and America didn't get on. Because if we took that into account, they probably wouldn't have teamed up to send people to Mars at all. So we'll ignore it, otherwise the astronaut story looks like it's made up, which of course, it definitely is.

It was also clear that the "astronauts" in question were just saying something funny to all our questions. So in now way was this productive. We basically took notes, for an HOUR, on three people pee-ing around and everything they said.

The third task was, to sum it up, act as if we were sexists. Conclusions from the 3rd task was that if you are a man you could be a teenager, a 'city boy' (banker, for normal people), an astronaut, or a sports person (athlete, for normal people). If you're a woman you can be a WAG or a mum. So that's nice. We then had to think about how to sell deodorant to an astronaut.

So many things wrong with that one. So, even assuming Astronauts have a shower, bearing in mind how much energy it takes to send mass into space, I really don't think, in any world, that astronauts turn up with their little wash bags full of Colgate and Lynx. I assume that IF, IF they have deodorant, it's supplied by NASA or whatever organisations sending them up there.

Can I also point out how long space missions are? YEARS. So how much deodorant do they take with them? Again, bearing in mind how much energy it takes, I doubt their sending them up with stacks of Right Guard in the boot.

Also, there's like 3 Astronauts in the country? It's not the biggest demographic? What company decides, right, gap in the market THERE'S NO DEODORANT FOR ASTRONAUTS! SELL SELL SELL!!! Nobody. Because nobody would ever make any profit from that, ever. It would be better to just go to tesco, buy some deodorant for say, £2.50 that already exists, take it to the astronauts and go here you go, it's £3.00. £1.50 profit, thankyou very much, job done, have fun in space, see you later.

Not to mention the difficulty's for advertising... It's expensive enough hiring a billboard on the motorway, let alone one floating around on an asteroid.

I've done a little poster for you, just to shake things up a bit.

http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_lsls5w7tWt1qcvccko1_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1317921637&Signature=Lgvg5vEt56Jjjs4%2F3CCwZ%2FG1fFs%3D

Laters guys, take care x

Blog 120: Stupid B*tch

So I'm currently looking after a psycho dog and her owner's house. She's part alsatian, and then part something else, maybe greyhound or those lassie dogs...Something like that. But, to put it shortly, she's massive. When she jumps up on her hind legs she's as tall as me, and obviously, as she's a dog, she's way more powerful and dangerous than I am too.

However, she's also way less intelligent than me. She's clever for a dog - she can even open doors - but I'm clever for a human so I trump her intelligence-wise (well done Mike).

She's a bit naughty...the past two days I've come home from work to find that she's shredded socks, cartons of tomatoes, packs of pasta and then done a wee all over the bedroom carpet. So I've had to tell her off. I also have to tell her off when she 'play' bites (did you know the bite of a german shepherd has a force of 238 pounds?) and when she jumps up.

But if she was to figure out that she's actually way stronger than me, then I'm in trouble. When I tell her off, something in my mind says "This dog would own you if it was to get fed up of being told off..." I'm half expecting her to come upstairs while I sleep and put a pillow over my face and smother me until I pass away. Or maybe the owners will return to find half of me on the kitchen floor with the dog chewing away at my liver or other vital organ.

Before I go, here are some more facts that have given me a general impression of what German Shepherds and Alsatians are like throughout my life.

German Shepherds are a large sized dog, generally between 55 and 65 cm at the withers (shoulders) and weight between 22 and 40 kg. They have a domed forhead, a long square muzzle and a black nose. The jaws are strong, with a scissor-like bite.

An Australian report from 1999 shows German Sheperds are the third breed most likely to attack a person.

In the United States, one source suggests that German Shepher Dogs are responsible for more reported bitings than any other breed.

The bite of a German Shepherd has a force of over 238 pounds, compared to a human's puny 86.

They are not inclined to become immediate friends with strangers.

Bear those facts in mind.

Today I took her for an extra 20 minutes on her walk to try and tire her out so she can't get up to mischief... and she did seem to get tired. Now although she's a naughty dog, she's a good natured one, and so when we came across two massive alsatians, and I mean bigger than her massive. One of the alsatians stayed with the owner, the other one came charging and barking towards me and Luna.

So here comes this metre tall, 40 kilo dog, pounding towards me, snapping and barking it's strong, scissor like jaws in the most aggressive manor one can imagine, running straight for Luna. I hold her back, and the owner of the mad dog says "Don't worry it's just barking, it's fine."

He's now right in Luna's face, she's cowering, and then he goes to either bark right by her face, or what I saw as a snap. So there's a dog about to bite Luna, the owner, she's yelling "Stop, stop" and this massive monster just not listening. So I pull Luna just out of his way, and she ducks behinds my all of a sudden weedy looking legs. The dog continues to bark and snarl. So I hold out my figure, and firmly say NO.

The dog stops. Thing is with dogs, and I learnt this recently when we were training our new puppy Archie and when looking after Mac, the THING with dogs is that if you are firm with them, they listen. The crazy uncontrolled dogs you see are always the product of fuzzy wuzzy owners who love and spoil their dogs too much, and so it knows it can do whatever it likes without getting told off, so acts like a dog. If you're firm with them, they'll listen. So I firmly said NO without showing any signs of being scared, and the dog instantly stopped.

THEN, the owner comes over and she tells me off! She says "Alright, I can control my dogs, not you", sneering out of her stupid little face. "Can you?" I said, and walked off with poor ickle (yet still annoying for ripping my tomatoes) Luna.

THE CHEEK! Obviously, you can't control your dog, because it was barking and snapping and snarling at me and my dog. It's a huge dog, to have it walking around lead-less and snapping at everything is irresponsible and out of order, what if it attacked some children? So, I stopped it because I felt Luna was threatened, and she clearly felt threatened too. I didn't kick it, I didn't hit it, I didn't stab it in it's beady blood-lusting eyes, I just said NO, and it stopped. So don't tell me you can control your dog when you can't, and I have to do it for you.

Now you just have to figure out which character the title refers to :P

Blog 119: Holiday Diary 5

Spinazzola - Day 7 or 8

“SEX ISN’T THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! You are...”
That’s the lovely line at the end of American Pie 5, followed by the one who says this having sex with the one he says it to, so it’s instantly undermined by boobies, just like everything else in the world really.

That’s what I’m watching now by the way, and can I say that it’s the best part of my day, other than perhaps the drive to where we visited.

We went to Matera. For those of you who’ve seen the Passion of the Christ, (and I haven’t), Matera’s where it was filmed. And there’s literally nothing there. So that was my day today. Visiting a place where literally nothing ever happened. Jesus didn’t die there, but someone pretending to be him pretended to die there. That’s all. Also, Mel Gibson probably walked around there a bit.

And we saw where that went down.

Blog 118: Holiday Diary 4

Spinazzola - Day 6, probably?

So I have no idea what day we’re on. I think yesterday we went to a swimming pool with slides in, which was fun. I met some Canadians, and I asked them “What brings you guys out here in the middle of nowhere then?” meaning, why are you here and not someone where there’s loads to do, they answered “Vacation”. I didn’t speak to them again.

Today we walked around town a bit then had dinner with the extended ffffaaaammmmiiiillllyyyy. I realised there’s a band in Spinazzola that never stops playing. Literally. Just walks around all the time playing songs in their smart costumes playing songs non-stop. You have to be really mindful where they are in relation to you. If you’re in the street and you hear the band start playing behind you, then run, because if they catch you, the Tubas suck you in, because they don’t get any other chance to eat.
That’s all that’s happened today. I’m understandably bored.

Blog 117: Not Yorkshire

Some of my friends from Yorkshire joined a facebook group saying everywhere that isn't Yorkshire should just be called Not Yorkshire. If I lived in somewhere that wasn't Yorkshire, (which I do) I would be really proud. So yes, call it Not Yorkshire.

Please don't stop reading my blog if you are from Yorkshire...

Blog 116: Holiday Diary 3

Spinazzola - Day 4

You may have figured out there’s no pattern as to which day I write this li’l travel journal on. Obviously, 1,3,4, isn’t a pattern, probably. And if it is, then I’m not intending it. It’s literally when I have nothing else to do.

As I implied yesterday, today was spent milling around in the house watching films. Somehow I’ve managed to eat two peaches, which, put together were literally the size of my head. I’ve also managed to only watch 2 films between 10am and 6.30pm. I watched American Pie 2 followed by The Hills Have Eyes. Because you really needed to know that. I’m also about halfway through The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe, the sequel to The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Universe. I wish Douglas Adams didn’t have such long book names. Unfortunately I don’t own a copy of Life, the Universe and Everything to read once this book’s finished.

I’ve also spent a large segment of my day worrying and pondering. I’ve worried about how I’ve done NO work towards my dissertation, even though I’ve had no time to do that work at all ever this holiday. I’ve also pondered and worried about how silly I can be. And furthermore, I’ve pondered how best to get the circular metal object off the chimney across the street and into my possession.

Some of you may have seen the new Captain America movie. I’m not going to pretend it’s as good as Thor was, or that it’s a must see, but it’s not bad. And the circular object across the street looks EXACTLY like his shield, minus the paint job.

So I want it. Simples. And I’ve tried to work out the most efficient and safest way to get it. I’ve taken photographs of the item and the surrounding area, I’ve done the maths, the science. And at the moment I can see three possibilities.

1) Get a massive ladder and climb up the building opposite and take it. Problems? People will definitely see. And seeing as I don’t technically own the item, that may be a problem. Even more so, I don’t own the building...

2) Construct a structure from wire culminating in a coathanger. The item has bits of wire attached, all of which loop back to the item and form lovely li’l twisty bits I can hook onto, like hooking ducks at a fair (that’s not a euphemism) or hooking chicks in a club (that is). If I was to create a huge wire stick thing and hook it, I can probably either pull it back to my rooftop, or at least knock it to the ground. Problems? Knocking it to the ground might kill my nan if she’s outside, and then how am I gonna eat? Also, the only wire in the area is supporting the aerial. If I take the wire down, the whole thing might collapse.

3) Jump to the other roof. It’s definitely doable. It’s about 2 metres away, but also 2 metres lower. The roof tiles don’t look real sturdy but there’s a whole patch where there aren’t any roof tiles! Problems? There’s no way of getting back. I’ve surveyed the surrounding landscape and the only way would be through someone’s house.

And so for the rest of this evening I shall be plotting. In fact, until I get the damn thing, that’s my holiday plans sorted.

Blog 115: Holiday Diary 2

Spinazzola - Day 3

So after 2 days at the beach we had a mahooosive lie in on day 3. We were in bed til 8.30!!! My parents are such squares.

And then we stayed home for a bit. Me and my sister watched Monsters Inc followed by half of Carrie, then we all had lunch and went to the swimming pool, which was nice because it was basically empty, and has green grass! ACTUAL GREEN GRASS.

But we began to slowly realise that the people who worked at the pool were horrifying racists. At first when I caught one of the gorgeous pool attendant ladies looking my way I thought, hello, this is good! Then I remembered my Mum and Dad were with me so left it well alone. And when they asked everyone to join in the darts and volleyball games, they left us out because they figured out that we were pasty white English people.

In the evening me and my brother went for a prowl, see who’s who and what’s going down. Well, literally nothing is going down, except DJ Fox was blasting out some blazin’ tarantella and the oldies were gettin’ jiggy wi’it. So we sat on a bench, looking for people our age to hang out with. Literally. Nobody. I’m glad I brought my laptop now.

Blog 114: Holiday Diary 1

Spinazzola - Day 1

So, obviously I’m on holiday, because I’m writing a diary, and if I wasn’t on holiday I definitely wouldn’t have time to do this. Oh wait, yes I would, because I’m a student. I forgot about that because literally NOTHING INTERESTING EVER HAPPENS.
But don’t worry, I’ve been up to my usual antics over summer, and that’s why I haven’t written a blog in a while I guess. So here’s my diary, all blogged up and ready to go, written on location.
The plan was go to Rome, spend 4 days there, and then drive to the south of Italy where my Dad was born to spend around 9 days there, even though it’s literally in the middle of nowhere. Now, when we were in Rome, we were busy, getting up to all sorts of notable activities. However, because we were busy, I didn’t have time to write a diary. But now that I’m doing nothing, I have time. But nothing to write about. That doesn’t stop the massive paragraph underneath though.
So today we went to the beach. By we I mean my Mum, Dad, Brosef Stephen and Sistef Laura, and then my Grandparents, I Nonni as there known in Italy: Nonno and Nonna.

The beach was nice. Sun, sand, umbrellas, bikinis, big bellies, wrinkly upper thighs and buttock area, girls with pit hair, girls with overgrown ahems and oh yeh, topless babes! And by topless babes, I mean old ladies with their tits dragging in the sand.

What to do on the beach!? So many options! Swim, cough up salt, get sand in your hair, walk around all pasty white next to the blackest white people you’ll EVER see or play with a bean bag. So we played bean bag, which involved throwing it to each other in the sea. It was actually really fun. Then we started rugby tackling waves until a hot girl came over and my brother got embarrassed. And then a perfectly ok day turned into the worst day of my life. My brother, my own brother, lost. My. Beanbag.
Then we came home, ate crackers and Philadelphia and cried into my straw hat which doesn’t quite fit my head but that’s ok because everyone just rests them on the top of their head anyways now. Dunno what’s gonna happen tonight. Probably just eat too much food and lie on the floor like Jabba, just without the bikini-clad princess. When in Rome.

Blog 113: Just a Li'l Something

I'm just writing a little something to moisten your dry interest, as I'm very very aware that I haven't written anything on here properly for like, a while.

Why is it we tell people, when they're grieving a lost loved one, that they're "Probably up there right now, looking down on us and smiling?"

It's kinda ridiculous. I mean, sorry, but say you get to heaven, and there's huuuuuge parties, chocolate growing on trees, everyone's well fun, you can hang out with GOD and like all the angels, etc, (I mean, that's kinda really cool...) so why on EARTH (or why in heaven) would you waste all your time just sitting on a cloud on your own observing the ridiculously mundane tasks which your relatives are doing? I mean, for real? I can imagine, maybe, you might take 5 minutes or something to watch your kids getting married or whatever, but REALLY are you sitting there watching them on the bus, smiling down?

Also, right, someone was talking about my Great Grandpa the other day. Now, when he was alive, his house always smelt a bit of TCP, like ALWAYS, and this person was saying how they went to an antique market type thing, and smelt TCP and they actually said "It was like Grandpa was there". Really? REALLY? Is he really just wandering around an antique store? And does thinking that really bring you comfort? I mean, to be honest, that sounds rubbish for five minutes, let alone eternity. And the smell of TCP doesn't mean his spirit is wafting around nearby! His spirit isn't gonna smell of TCP?! It doesn't mean if I feel a sore throat coming on i GARGLE a bit of my Grandpa to sort it out?!

I think my Grandpa is MORE LIKELY to be in heaven, and I'd rather he was than wandering aimlessly around an antique store. I think he would've wanted it that way too.

Might as well dedicate this to him, even though it's rubbish.

Blog 112: Chris Rock

I've just watched the Longest Yard, the one with Adam Sandler and Chris Rock in it. I just want to say something to Chris. Yes, you're black. We can see it. Not being funny, but you don't need to keep reminding us, and it isn't funny when you do. Keep being black, by all means. Just stop telling me the whole time when I can see your skin tone in full HD.

Blog 111: Facebook Quiz

Don't get your hopes up, this isn't really a quiz. I'm just angry at this new Facebook "phenomenon" where random quizzes get thrown around and people answer the questions. It was alright when it was genuinely important, I even used it myself to find out if it's better to be a pirate or a cowboy. It was still alright when you can find out how many films or books from a certain list you've watched, or where you've been in the UK. Fine. But recently my feed has just been full to the brim with answers to one question: What is the worst thing a guy can say to a girl?

Most of the answers seem to be "Have you gained weight?" or "Out of ten you're a...", that sort of thing. The kinda thing that no guy would ever say to a girl. And if i'm wrong on that one then I really do despair for the world.

It's a stupid question with no actual bearing, and no point behind it other than maybe to hint at guys not to say the things we already weren't going to say.

But then the multiple choice options are ridiculous! Think about it, is "Have you gained weight REALLY the worst thing you could say?

Now, obviously, i'm not a lady. Otherwise my name wouldn't be Michael, and I wouldn't have a willy. And at school my nickname wasn't Casanova. BUT, I think I know girls well enough to say, and shoot me down if I'm wrong, but a girl would rather hear "have you gained weight?" than something along the lines of "You know your kids? I trapped them in a small cage, I've already eaten James, and Sarah looks like she's getting ill off all the slugs I'm feeding her." I think that would be the worst thing. Or something like, "All your family and pets are robots, but don't worry, I've switched them off. The cat twitched a bit but I stopped it with my boot. I never knew battery acid was red!" I could go on. But I won't. Because I'm going to kill you.

Blog 110: Good Friday, Bad Google.

It's Good Friday as I write this. For anyone that doesn't realise, Good Friday is the day which we remember Jesus dying on the cross. (Easter is for when he rose from the dead two days later.) Now obviously, there's some debate over wether he rose from the dead, or was the son of God, and although I believe that, I'm not here to drum that into your skulls (although obviously, I'd recommend it). BUT nobody in their right minds denies that there was a man called Jesus who taught us some really sound stuff and was then crucified. And Good Friday is when we remember this.

Now it's easy enough to remember when Good Friday is. You know Easter is always on a Sunday right? Well, go two days before that, and that's ALWAYS Good Friday. So it's not like you're gonna forget.

But guess who's just invented a groovy holiday and decided to plonk it right where Good Friday is this year. That's right, Google have invented a holiday.

WELL ok, it's been around since 1970, but still. Nobody knows or cares about Earth Day, it's a ridiculous idea and is fundamentally pointless. But if you MUST have Earth Day, why don't you whack it somewhere around, I dunno, June, July, August, September, early October, late November time? Heck, shove it on the 23rd of December, it won't ever accidentally clash with Christmas will it. BUT HERE'S AN IDEA! Don't whack it right where there's already a more prominent holiday. It's like standing next to Martin Luther King and trying to get praise for how you went back to the shop and gave them the 30p for the biscuit which they forgot to scan through. Nobody cares, you're not a hero, and if anything, you're an idiot for throwing away 30p.

But you know what's even worse? So it accidentally clashes with Good Friday. Not the best planning, but hey ho, people make mistakes. But on the google homepage, don't pretend like Earth Day is a bigger deal than Good Friday?! Whether you're a massive church goer who never leaves a pew except to make a PPEEE-EEWWW (see what I did there?) or basically a satanist who never leaves his or her pentagram, Good Friday has become a fundamental day which is engrained into our culture in all country's with a Christian foundation and history, so I dunno where Google gets off pretending like Earth Day is the best thing ever. I don't know what Earth Day is, I dunno what it's for. Oh if I don't remember to celebrate EARTH DAY I'm gonna forget what the EARTH is, OH BLOODY HELL what's this massive sphere I'm treading all over, oh golly gosh, oh wait, Earth Day's here OH I REMEMBER, it's the Earth. This literally never happens. So go away Earth Day, get off google's little picture version of it's logo and let's have some recognition for someone. You're probably thinking, well this is an overreaction, it's not like anyone died, but 1) my URL says about me ranting, so you had a warning and 2) SOMEONE DID DIE. And we're too busy celebrating Earth Day to care about it. Let's reconsider Earth Day, please, we're coming off as idiots.

Although, to be honest, soon as we find martians we'll get rid of Earth Day due to it being politically incorrect.

Blog 109: Sticky Quickie

Just a quick li'l blog today, for those who were brave enough to read past that disturbing, and thanfully misleading, title.

This post is actually a review of amazon prime. For those that don't know, amazon prime is a tasty extra to normal amazon, but which you have to pay extra for. The main bonus of amazon prime (it might be the only one, but it's the only one I'm aware of anyways) is that you can get your orders on 1 day delivery, for free! (Except it's not, because amazon prime isn't free)

I was recently offered a month's trial of amazon prime, so I jumped at the chance. And then I finally got to test it out on Wednesday 20th of April, around 3 o clock in the afternoon. One day delivery? Go on then.

It's expected on Saturday, the 23rd April. Nice one amazon. We'll deliver your items in one day! For money! And it'll take three days to do it.

Blog 108: Point of View

You might wanna read about my pointless lectures before you look at this one, but it's not essential. But if you want the full story check out this post first:

http://pasqualerants.blogspot.com/2011/03/blog-101-why-oh-why.html

Or look for post 101.

ANYWAY. We had an assignment, which was ridiculous, and stupid, pointless and mundane and completely impossible. We had to define "point", "line", "plane", "structure" and "form" (in the artistic sense of those words). Our definitions had to be original, so we couldn't use the dictionary (which, despite the impossibility to define those words, does a pretty good job that can't really be done better...) What annoys me about this is that everyone knows what these are, but like colours, you can't really explain it. If someone said "describe the colour green" you'd find yourself probably punching that person in the mouth. Moreover, if someone came up to you and genuinely didn't know what a line or point was, they'd probably get several skin breaking kicks to the shin, and deservedly. But we had to do basically that for this assignment.

I'd already got credit for making the popping noise that donkey makes in Shrek 2 to define the sound that a point would make if it was a sound, so I should really have been let off having to define it on paper too. But as if defining it with words weren't enough, we had to illustrate these 5 things (objects? concepts? what even are they?) too.

Now, obviously we can't just draw a line or a point (although that is a good way to see what they are) so this bit wound me up. How am I supposed to do such obvious things in original ways?

I got so wound up that I did an e-mail to the module leader:

"Hello,

I'm writing primarily to enquire about the Design Theory 2 (DESN2640) assignment we have been given, as I have spent the past few hours attempting to do it and it has only resulted in me feeling stressed. I am unsure as to what the idea of the assignment is. I was wondering if you could give me some indication of what the assignment is intended to achieve so that I can try and focus my project towards that goal. At the moment I am struggling for ideas to define "point" in any other way than how the dictionary does it, which of course is unoriginal and so wouldn't be allowed. I find that "point" and "line" are concepts so basic that I cannot begin to think of how to describe them, much like how I wouldn't be able to describe the colour red to someone if they asked. I hope you don't find this email rude and I certainly don't wish to come across as such, I am writing purely to ask where you intend us to go with these assignments as I am struggling to focus and specify what I am writing.

Thankyou in advance

Michael Pasquale"

And this was toned down. My original draft was way more sarcastic and grumpy, but unfortunately I didn't save that one.

The reply was this:

"Michael,
I suggest also that you read the given assignment again (with care). Your focus should be on producing original illustrations and definitions for inclusion in a text bvook for visual artists and designers. My advice is to try to produce the visuals first. You may well find that the words then follow the images rather than vice versa.
Originality is required, but a survey using google (for example) and whatever relevant text books you can access, may stimulate this originality. Hope this is helpful.
Regards,

Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange"

So basically, read the brief, which OBVIOUSLY I had done, several times, and the brief literally says what he says: "Your focus should be on producing original illustrations and definitions for inclusion in a text bvook for visual artists and designers". I was hoping for some indication as to why this activity would be any use to me now, or ever. Because it really won't be.

I should point out, that when he says they're meant to be for "inclusion in a text book", he's literally been asked to make some definitions for a textbook, and he can't be bothered, so he's asked the whole module to do it and he's choosing the best to be used in the textbook. So this is the actual reason why this is happening, and the reason why I wanted to repeatedly smash my face into my computer keyboard until the blood jammed up the letters and I couldn't type anymore.

Goodness, where did all that anger come from?

Anyways, we got set another stupid task and upon handing in the second task we received the results from the above one back, and I did well. Which annoyed me. Because my intention for my illustrations was to take the mick and try to point out what a truly stupid and ridiculous task this is, but instead it was misread as "an attempt to breathe originality into the assignment."

Anyway, I thought I'd post my definitions on tumblr so that you can all have a gander at how well I did despite wanting to just trash my room. Hopefully they'll get chosen for the book as well, because then people using the book might find the original drawings on here and realise it's all a massive massive farce.

You can find the definitions here at this link:

http://mike-is-a-hero.tumblr.com/post/4362183266/some-ridiculous-definitions-which-we-had-to-do-for

Enjoy!!!

Blog 107: Regression Therapy

Here's the final installment of my whacky days of myspace blogging. I think now that I've typed these up I will reveal my myspace to the world, so people can visit it. One day, when I've saved the world or done something equally high profile, the myspace will remain there as a sort of museum about my childhood. The link is http://www.myspace.com/pasqualester

Here's the final post from my myspace blog:

"It was a dark night at the house of Count Von Pasqualestein. Thunder rumbled in the night air. Nathan was playing a board game quietly, and was hummin Pink Floyd to himself. Lightning struck the ground outside, leaving the smell of sulphur, a ringing in Nathan's ears, and a blinding white light. When the light faded, Nathan screamed in terror...for there was the evil Michael and Andrew, and their new accomplice, Adam. Nathan remembered too well, that night in the lounge all those years ago...they wedgied him so hard he couldn't walk for a week! He screamed in terror again, and then Adam pounced, holding his arms on the floor. The other two grabbed the edge of Nathan's boxers and yanked him into the air, so he was dangling by a wedgie. He screamed a scream which whimpered into a silence. Blood seeped from under the door, and lighting struck. The 3 wedgie-ers ran away into the night.Then out scrambled Nathan. He crawled along, as he couldn't walk any longer. They had got him again, but he had survived once more. He knew they would be back...and he was right! So let that be a warning to you all, espescially if you are Nathan! MWA HA HA HA HAAAAA."

I do remember this night, and it was hillarious. My version is perhaps a bit over dramatic but it's based on glorious true events. I do sort of feel sorry for Nathan but... naaaaaah, I don't.
I wonder if he'll read this? If he does, then Hi Nathan!

That brings me to the end of this series of blog posts, but I'm sure I'll be back soon with some more tasty rants or something for you to read instead of doing that really important work you have to do...

Laters x

Blog 106: Ye Olde Blogs

Another confusing one from my old blog:

"This is what i found in a report from my agent last week...
EVIL WORLD DESTRUCTION PLAN...
Your objective is simple: Destroy the Earth
Your motive is a little bit more complex: Revenge
Stage One:
To begin your plan, you must first Blackmail a Pope. This will cause the world to sit up and take notice, stunned by your arrival. Who is this Evil Genius? Where did they come from? And why do they look so good in a Supervillain Costume with Gimmicks?
Stage Two:
Next, you will Seize control of that Opera House in Sydney. This will cause countless hordes of Mad Scientists to flock to you, begging to do your every bidding. Your name will become synonymous with Sheer dementedness, as lesser men whisper your name in terror.
Stage Three:
Finally, you will Unleash your Horsemen of the Apocalypse, bringing about an Unending Cacophony of Screams. This will all be done from a Dark Side of the Moon, an excellent choice if I might say. These three deeds will herald the end, and the citizens of this planet will have no choice but to elect you their new god.
Trust me, it'll all come together in the end. Good Luck,
from,
your agent."

I don't know who my agent is, and again, I'm really scared by this one! I have no idea what is going on!

I remember I once had to act as a mad german scientist called Wilf for a whole week to entertain some kids, and I really do wonder if it began to have an effect on my actual life. It's almost like method acting, but reversed, where I play the character and then slowly become that character in actual real life :/
I used to be able to (more or less) do a german accent, but I can't any more...

Keep an eye out for the final blog from my myspace next time...

Blog 105: Insert "Clever" Pun

Another tasty treat from my old myspace blog...
I literally have no idea what this one is about, wether I wrote it on my own, or with someone, or if someone else did or what, I honestly don't remember, and quite frankly, it scares me...

"In order to understand "Operation Annoy All" you need to realize that everything is controlled by a Batfrod Massif made up of Geeks with help from Loser-kind.
The conspiracy first started during Battle of the Somme in Rothampstead Park. They have been responsible for many events throughout history, including Margaret Thatcher's victory in the elections.
Today, members of the conspiracy are everywhere. They can be identified by poking and/or the chopping off of vital limbs, such as legs.
They want to murder Queen Elizabeth I and imprison resisters in Luton town using bicycles.
In order to prepare for this, we all must punch someone. Since the media is controlled by Tony Blair we should get our information from Ian Duncan Smith."

Genuinely scared by this one...

Blog 104: Mysp-age

Another little post from old myspace Mike:

"It was the night of the 22nd september, 2006. Nathan Edwards felt happy. It was finally the weekend. But little did he know the horror that was waiting for him.
He fought it good, he fought it well, but his resistance was futile. Nathan walked home a different way. He waddled home. The wedgie had been too much.
The monsters weren't gremlins, r bogeymen. It was me and Chandler. And I think you'll agree that we did the right thing..."

This one was followed by

"Yo dudes who are sad enough to read my blogs! How is it with you guys?

This blog is a random blog. It is meant to be profound. But what does blog really mean? Is is just a little 'diary' type thing on the internet? or is it more? Think about it."

It's not even funny the horrendous grasp of the "english" language which I had back then. It's just annoying. Also, whoever the second post was written by (ie, me) deserves a right smack.

More to come...

Blog 103: Prehisblogic

I just went on my myspace, which for some reason still exists, and found that I had a blog before this one, which I literally do not remember writing, at all! However, it holds some magical mystical gems of what I'd call literature, and so I'm beginning a small series of blogs which will publish (properly) my old blog posts. Some of them make no sense, at all, even to myself.

I have learnt one thing from these blogs: I am so glad that I've changed.

First up, a post about a trip to Belgium we did in year 10.

"Battlefields Trip was amazing. I had a great time with my mates, and then the trenches were really good fun. The cemetries were kinda sad, as you realise just how many people died in the Great War.

I was in a room with Tim, Simon, and Nathan, and we were known as room 12, or better yet, Tim, Simon, Nathan and Michael. We combined Simon's ipod with my speakers to enable us to have an air guitar fest, and when we weren't rockin', we were annoyin Nathan by makin him listen to Kelly Clarkson."

Right, several issues.

1 Air guitar fests are fun, but there were other people on this trip. I dunno why we didn't just hang out with them...

2 I missed out the best bit, when we asked a teacher for some more loo roll, he said "Put a cork in it". So I asked him for a cork.

3 Why did I write "The trenches were really good fun"? What sort of an idiot kid visits trenches from the first world war and comments on how they were "really good fun". I don't think I reacted to this trip properly.

So there you are, hope you enjoyed that... plenty more to come from old me...

Blog 102: Is This Sparta?

IT'S BEEN A WHILE!?!

I know, and I apologise.

But there's not much to rant about at the mo! I'm worried. I've run out of stuff to rant about and I'm only 20, so what on earth am I gonna do when I'm like, 80?

Anyways, thankfully, the drunk people of Leeds have come to a temporary rescue...

Last night I trundled off to the cinema to see Rango and had a wonderful evening, but unfortunately, just like any other evening, it had to end, and I had to walk home.

Since living in a city rather than my real home in like, a rubbish little town, I enjoy walking places now, ESPECIALLY at night, just because of all the funny people, who are made even funnier when drunk.

One girl was trundling along and all of a sudden her heel collapsed on her and she fell over. Being a true hero :D I, well, I didn't run, but I walked swiftly over to make sure she was ok and see if she needed any help.

"Are you alright?" I enquired.

"Yes thanks" she replied.

"Need any help getting up?"

"No"

"Oh...ok then..."

I didn't know what to do... so I just walked off. Then I felt bad, but its not like I had much option...

Anyway, the highlight of my walk home was the people walking in the opposite direction kitted out in the 300 Spartan's gear... sort of ...boxers and capes aren't completely accurate, and I don't remember King Leonidas sporting the Umbro brand on the front of his panties, but you got the gist of who they were meant to be.

There was about 20 of these spartans, wandering into town, and one of them I noticed, stepped off the path into a shady corner.

Uh oh, I thought, perhaps he's betraying them like that little hunchbacked guy in the film... Or maybe he's ambushing me, and they've mistook me for a persian... So I was wary...

Of course, it wasn't this. It was just that this particular Spartan needed a wee. So he went and weed on a church (not the best place to wee... the worst thing that can happen when you wee on most buildings is you get told off, but weeing on a church is never gonna be a good idea is it...) and I realised these guys weren't the hardened warriors from the film, but just a load of drunk students without six packs.

What they were, were 20 boys, dressed in nothing but boxers and a cape, just them, some boys. Going for a walk, basically naked. Not the coolest thing to do.

As the guy weed all over the church, I was waiting for him to turn it round and make it epic, to give me some hope that they haven't misunderstood the film entirely (anyone who's seen the film will understand that the message is to make EVERYTHING epic). But alas, he didn't shout "TONIGHT WE PISS IN HELL". Nah, that night he just narrowly avoided pissing himself.

Blog 101: Why, Oh Why?

Why have I just spent an hour of my life being told about symmetry and how many lines of symmetry a square has? Why have I just spent loads of money on something my 15 year old sister could have taught me, for free, three years ago?

My lecture today was, surprise surprise, a waste of time. For a good ten minutes early this afternoon, I was watching a bewildering and confused museum curator (who my friend Robyn says looks like the Weetos man) count how many lines there were on an octagonal window.

One, two, three, four, five, si...oh no wait a minute I missed one...one, two, three, four, FIVE, six, seven, eight, nine...

At one stage he said "I told this to two other people and they both completely got it. One was-"

Five.

"-and the other was - "

Seven.

No wait. One was the winner of the Nobel PHYSICS prize, and apparently he understood symmetry straight away. He must be a clever chap if he can understand symmetry. I mean, when I heard he'd won the Nobel Prize for Physics I had my doubts about his intellect and potential to do great things, but if he knows that a rectangle has 2 lines of symmetry then he must be incredible.

The other one was Henry Moore.

As in Henry Moore who's name is usually followed up by about 8 letters for various achievements? Henry Moore the famous sculptor and artist? Well, the lecturer didn't say, but looking at Henry Moore's work now on google, I can't say symmetry is something that seems to have a profound effect.

"It's not a new thing, symmetry. Think about all the designs in the world! Do you think cars are symmetrical for no reason? It's because we as humans are symmetrical (which we're not really) and so we like things to look symmetrical."

Tell you what, get a car, take one of the front wheels off and try driving up the M1. You will go round in circles for about thirty seconds and then you will die. That is what will happen. For this reason, cars are symmetrical.

"Look at this church, it's layout is symmetrical, because we like the look of it."

Probably isn't, actually. Most of the time one of the parts is longer than another. Moreover, ever noticed that churches are crossed shaped? Not because of symmetry, but because Jesus died on a cross. That is why Christians, who are named after Jesus Christ, have buildings which look like a Cross, on which Jesus Christ died.

He was right when he said a lot of insects and fish are symmetrical. Yes, they are. But it's not because they're trying to look hot or impress a girl, it's because they work better when they are shaped like that. And more to the point, who the hell even cares.

Why do things like this happen to me?

Blog 99: 1

In the song "Mr. Brownstone" Axl Rose boasts about his addiction to heroine and how it affected his life and the band's life, saying "I get up around 7, I get out of bed around 9."

Now is it just me, or is that really not that bad@$$ for an 80s metal band? As much as I love good ol' pre-axl-rose-going-mental and slash leaving Guns N' Roses, getting up at 7 and getting out of bed at 9 is well pansy. Just today I woke up at 9 and only just now got out of bed, and as I write this it's 12:37. And the worst drug I take is Weetabix, and the Morrison's value version at that. I don't know why they were often 3 hours late to gigs when they had all that time since their early rise-n-shinin' at 9 until the evening, where all they did was probably snort powders and bang ladies with massive hair-do's.

On a smaller note, you may have noticed it's my 99th blog. And obviously, that means that the next one will be my 100th. And I know I broke my New Year's Eve promise to upload 100 by midnight of the last day of 2010, but this Friday I am turning 20, and so I think that would be a similar excuse for me to upload my 100th blog. So keep reading.

Blog 98: 2

I bought a game the other day and it was delivered (somehow) yesterday, despite it being sunday. It's Aliens Vs Predator, for anyone who's interested.

It is a good game, it's good fun being the humans, but it is also the most terrifying thing anyone could ever do in the world ever. I was sat in the dark in my room mesmerized by the horror as I wandered through dark space corridors listening intently to my motion sensor for the dreaded beeping that means a vicious lizardy-insect is coming at me to chew off my face. Every once in a while you are fortunate to rendez-vous with some other humans with guns, and it's the most satisfying and relieving thing in the world, until shortly after they are ripped to shreds, mashed and stolen right in front of your eyes, living you with the aliens coming at you and your tiny little pistol.

I don't know what in the world SEGA thought was a good idea about making a game which leaves people in puddles of their own hard-earned urine, but for some reason it works. I didn't sleep much last night though.

Blog 97: 3

I just had an exam for my University course and one of the questions was either really difficult and I was missing something major in my revision, or it was the easiest question in the WORLD.

It still annoyed me though.

The question was: "What do you think the world will be like in 2025."

Well here's my answer.

"I personally believe the world will end in 2012, like the aztecs. (Not really) But for the purpose of this question let's assume that the prediction is not 100% definitely going to happen.

I think the world in the future will be a very different place. The main difference is that machines will rule the world, and they will keep the humans in pods and this will be how they make energy, because we will have run out of oil and other fossil fuels. The machines will plug the humans into a computer program, which means the humans will think they are living a life similar to a life lived by someone from the 1990s.

There will be some humans who have resisted the machines rule and live in a city called Zion. One of these will wear a Guy Fawkes mask and be called V. He will take a young girl hostage and then blow up the Houses of Parliament, for some reason.

There will be another man, called Morpheus. He will go into the computer program and find the One who will fight the machines.

The Machines will react violently, sending a giant austrian robot back to the 80s to kill Sarah Connor, who is someone's mum. The humans send V back with Kyle Reese to stop him, but Kyle ends up having it away with Sarah. They beat the robot, but he comes back to fight a police robot, who is Robocops friend.

I would like to say that they will have suits made of metal that can fly, not dissimilar to Iron Man, but of course that is unrealistic and wouldn't happen, no matter how much we want it. Instead we will have to defeat the aliens on Sigourney Weaver's ship without high tech suits, but it should be ok because as soon as it lands on Pandora the Na'vi will be waiting."

That's what I think will happen. You can't fault it, it's in movies.

Blog 96: 4

So it's the New Year. And I know I didn't keep my promise to upload my 100th blog post as it turned midnight, so I'm sorry to all of you who read my blog (my understanding is that it's not that many) and I will make it up to you by having a wonderful blog for my 96th one with pictures and everything. It'll be like magic.

Yesterday I went on a lovely trip to London to Madamme Tussaud's.

Oh, what a place!

Where else can you stand next to a statue of Freddie Mercury or Jimi Hendrix or Henry VIII as if they were still alive?

Well, Madamme Tussaud's anywhere else, of course, but there's nowhere else in London, that's for 78% sure!

And so off I went on the tube, all to London, and went in the door and LOOK! THE BEATLES! LEO DI CAPRIO! JONNY DEPP! JOHN F KENNEDY! David Cameron? Zac...Ef..ron?

Uh oh. I've walked into my worst nightmare, I realised, as I looked over to Patrick Stewart on his own (he'd probably cry if he had tear ducts) whilst Leona Lewis had crowds around her. And where's Mick Jagger? Ian McKellen? Waitaminute... why isn't Stalin here?!

The world around me crashed down into tiny pieces as I realised finally that I'm not like anyone else. I'm 19, and yet I don't like JLS more than Slash, I don't agree that Glee is a good thing and I certainly don't want to watch a film where the main character is played by Daniel Radcliff. And that's when I learnt the horrible truth about myself. That I'm an old person trapped in a tubby young person's body. I'm grumpy, I reminisce about the "good ol' days" which I didn't even experience and I'm living in my own personal nightmare where my favourite song from this year was by Kylie.

And I will moan about it. I will moan about how people watch the Hills and yet NOBODY watches the Office or Flight of the Conchords. I'll complain that people read Hello magazine but have never picked up the Hobbit or even tried the Watchmen. But I guess these things will never change. They will just continue to scare and alienate me until I sit on a porch and shout things at passers-by until I become the talk of the town and the laughing stock of the local schools. They'll make jokes about how I'm probably a sexual deviant in secret, or how I am definately a criminal. And I'll just continue to rant my way into insanity and think "It all began with that blog."

And to cheer ourselves all up a bit, here's a link to my pictures:

http://mike-is-a-hero.tumblr.com/