Completely Off Topic

As with so many things I make attempts at in my life, this blog as of lately has fallen into my pit of neglect, along eating healthily, my new years resolutions and my promise to myself never to watch another episode of friends on E4. But there is many reasons for this. Well, when I say many I mean two. One, I just can't squeeze a coherent debatable thought out of my brain and the second, I am quite lazy. Basically, I've turned into M. Night Shyamalan, the gigantic prick-wad known for every disaster of a film he's made outside of The Sixth Sense. I still think he's yet to reveal his true form; a giant smelly slimy Arse that craps film onto a reel every 9 months after it has gotten its sustenance from ill received ratings from critics who treat films as if they're doctored psychologists at a hypochondriac convention.

"Cinema has yet again positioned itself under my ASS! Nya nya nya nya nyaaaaa!"

If the title of this post hasn't become clear, it's just a way of me stating that this post is going to be a tumbling cascade of thoughts spilling out of my mind in attempt to unblock the block. In an analogy, my thoughts are the plunger, my brain is the toilet and the blockage is a giant pooh someone couldn't flush properly because they used loads of toilet paper to cover it up. There possibly won't be any coherent topic just a load of random things that I will attempt to somehow connect "cleverly" together in many ways by the end of this post6 (remember, "many" really means two).


However as I continue typing I'm hoping that metaphorical pooh will move millimetre by millimetre until the cleansing water of ideas come flowing into my mind again. What's that? I already feel the pooh slide minutely! A small topic has just dawned on me that I can speak of. It is Facebook related. Actually, this is something that happened just today, well, was meant to happen. I created an event in which you were supposed to change your Facebook profile picture into the worst picture you could find of yourself on Facebook. I believe I cleverly called it something along the lines of "Find your worst picture and Make it your Profile Picture... Day" which is literally what it was called. And not very clever either. 


Anyways I had it made a few days prior to it's due date and invited all my friends to join in on it. I wasn't surprised to see it spread as everyone always invites others randomly to join, nor was I surprised to see that about 1 in every 50 people actually bothered to give a response. However I WAS surprised to see people had actually decided they were not partaking in this event because, you know, Facebook profiles have always been a thing of pride. Did you also know Obama is white and He Man is straight? Vanity is the new thing this year I guess!

"Don't worry, we've proven, like these two, that we are probably too photogenic to defile our profiles..."

Stranger still was people that "might" be attending, or partaking in it. You might attend changing your profile picture for a day? Come on, are you contemplating on the thought that the copious amounts of people on Facebook that are complete strangers might be judging you? Because you're certainly not surprising your friends! They all have seen the your moments when they fleetingly think "what creature was sacrificed to bring him/her into this world?", so I don't think anyone should pretend they have an ounce of dignity left to spare for their Facebook profile page above all things! 


This leads me onto the next paragraph of this slowly extending but increasingly closing story. I certainly don't have an ounce of dignity to spare for my profile page, let alone have any left in general at this point in my life anyways, ESPECIALLY not after today. Since of course I created the event I obviously was willingly (and excitedly) going to partake in it. And partake I did in which amongst the many hideous photos of me, one sang through like a slipknot church choir:

"Hello people of the Universe"

Yes that is me. I think I'd give H.R. Gieger a run for his money in the new Alien movie if I sold this as concept art. On top of this, very few people actually changed their profile picture to a horrible portrait of themselves. And ON TOP OF THAT, I set the date for this event to the 01//02/2011, today, the date of my birthday. I essentially turned my profile page on Facebook into a magnet of terror for an entire day as people came onto my page to say "Happy Birthday" only to be greeted with a giant metamorphic human sperm THING.

It was a public display of my stupidity and for a moment I almost wished I had dignity to spare. But in the end all I could do was laugh at myself. And prepare to be much lonelier in my life. Maybe I could start hanging out with M. Night Shyamalan (I always think of Watermelons when I say his name? Shy Watermelons...). He doesn't seem to have any dignity left for himself, and he certainly doesn't make pretty pictures any more. In many ways the previous sentence marked the end of this Blog post!

P.S. When you say P.S. as a word it sounds like someone pissing. I also think the pooh is flushing.

Dance Pants - NO!

I just recalled a slightly embarrassing memory from a few years back. I went through this odd phase thanks to a few of my friends where I would pull down my pants whenever I was drunk, because, y'know, it was just THAT funny to do. What was even MORE funny was doing it in a nightclub, on the dance floor, because everyone wants to see that right? So there we all were, early as the morning birds (except it was night time, at the club Cuba, and we're not birds), we had the dance floor to ourselves so we all took our stationary dancing posts at each corner and dropped the pants, laughing at our delightful foolishness! This idea progressed into the night but became less frequent as more people began arriving, the non early birds. It seems we were only trying to impress each other, our strange insecurities made secure by bearing our legs to each other. As the night wore on (like a pair of jeans!) we got progressively more drunk, me in particular as the event I'm about to tell you unfolds.

Everyone was dancing in a group on the dance floor. This excited me greatly so I downed the remainder of my pint, slammed the empty glass hard on the table as if what I was about to do my final note on my "to-do before I die" list and headed to the dance floor. I imagine if this was some sort of film the remainder of this would play out in slow motion. Like an unexpected ostrich I sprang onto the dance floor into the center of the group dropping my pants and flailing wildly in an orgy of cacophonous laughter while swinging my head around in a drunken insanity. If I had feathers they would've been flying everywhere. As I continued flailing but slowly succumbing to a more acceptable dance so I could read the reactions of my friends, a sudden realisation fell upon me, like a bird had shat on my head. These weren't my friends. And they certainly weren't impressed by my powerful bare ostrich legs. The looks on their faces were caught somewhere between disapproving, disgusted and eyebrow raised confusion.

As the truth of all of this dawned on me I turned around to see all of my friends sitting in the corner laughing at my misfortune. All I could do was stand there, hang my head in shame in a group of strangers, with my friends pointing and laughing at me, with my pants down. Textbook humiliation