Tonight: A Flame, Nazis and Labrinth
Tonight we in Plymouth, UK, have the dubious honour of receiving the Olympic flame. I'm unsure if to go and see it or not - it is a once in a lifetime opportunity, but then so is Herpes, or drowning in a pool of discarded liposuction fat.
Rightly fearing that a sweaty person with a torch may not be enough, Plymouth council have shrewdly drawn in some entertainment to sway fence-sitters such as myself to come and observe. I can put aside the faily ridiculous notion that the torch bearing is a celebration of the Olympics, and that this celebration of the Olympics apparently in turn deserves a celebration of it's own, as I too am well known for having meta-celebrations. Pre birthdays, post birthdays, birthday birthdays, birthday weeks, and this year, a three week birthday celebration. I love to celebrate, this much me and the Olympic Flame have in common. What we don't have in common, is I wouldn't invite this guy to my party:
Yes, 'Labrinth' is in charge of tonight's jubilations. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't want to come to my party. He's achieved a lot more than I have. He's probably sold millions of units of mediocre pop-rap to the great unwashed. He's richer than I'll ever be, more famous than I'll ever be, more lusted after than I'll ever be. He could probably beat me in an arm wrestle too. In my eyes though, all of this means nothing, because he can't manage something much more important to me than any of those things; being able to spell your own fucking name. Labyrinth. Labyrinth. I don't know who started this 'from the streets' misspelling fad, Dizzee Rascal, Tinie Tempah, I don't care. But for the love of god, there is nothing cool about being unable to spell. Or is there? Am I missing a trick? Maybe ShellDin would get all the action?
Oh well, at least there will be other stuff for the audience before and after the show. Yeah, an open air bar! A DJ? Maybe a fair! Let's have a look on the website and see what they've got in store.
“ Before and during the show the audience will have the opportunity to take part in a number of activities courtesy of Coca-Cola, Lloyds TSB and Samsung. These include having your photograph taken with the London 2012 Torch and other Olympic-related activities. “
Yes, that's right folks – you too can get involved with this corporate sponsored shit-fest of Olympic-related activities. Assuming having your photo taken with the torch is the crème de la crème of Olympic-related activities, the mind boggles at what else they've got in store. Frankly, unless it's a collection of hilariously timed photographs of athletes pulling funny faces, or a nipple slip collection, Lloyds TSB can suck my Javelin.
So that just leaves me with the main attraction, the Olympic flame, which is the same flame first set alight in Ancient Greece, I think. I'll just check Wikipeda.
“In contrast to the Olympic flame proper, the torch relay of modern times which transports the flame from Greece to the various designated sites of the games had no ancient precedent and was introduced by Carl Diem at the controversial 1936 Berlin Olympics. “
Ah.....ah right. The flame lit by Nazis. Awkward.
When all is said and done, I'll probably go tonight. Why? It's free, there's bad music, Nazi flames, and you can bring your own alcohol. Shit is going to get real.
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Where you been baby?
Hello there everybody, I've been taking my sweet time making a new post on this blog haven't I? Well, I've been 'extremely busy'. You know, the type of 'extremely busy' where you haven't got time to do food shopping or meet an elderly relative, but you somehow make time for alcohol induced vomiting on yourself and back to back Lord of the Rings DVD marathons.
I've not been involved in too much debauchery or raucous shenanigans which I suppose is the real reason no posts have been made – surely no one wants to hear what I've been doing, only funny stories. If you want a mundane blow by blow account of a strangers life, just ask a jovial stranger how they are doing, and you'll probably get it. Hot spots for this include supermarket checkouts, and lonely pub landlords. However, I've decided to go ahead and tell you what I've been up to anyway, because I like to write, and I can't get my genitals out every month to write an entry about. That said, I did last week, in a foreign country with a stranger dancing a laser pointer around on my ass from a block of flats. But I digress. So, what have I been getting up to lately? I've been doing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, also known as 'having another man's genitals in your face', I've got myself a lovely lady to counterbalance the homo eroticism of the prior sport, and what else have I been up to? Let's take a look at my credit card statement...
...oh dear. That's right, eating shit, drinking, and going to Spain. Could you get any more British? I've had two and a half weeks of work, and I've had the time of my life.
So, a few choice moments from my travels.
On reaching Yeovil Junction and buying my tickets from the machine, an elderly gentleman approached me with a raspy voice that suggested something in his throat had been opened up and played with, or removed entirely.
Old man: “Oh, you’re alright then”
Me: “Eh?” (Please don’t talk to me)
Old man: “You looked like you were having trouble”
Me: “No….just….buying my tickets” (Oh god, you’re talking to me)
Old man: “You should go to the ticket office you know. The tickets are cheaper there”
Me: “Oh, thanks! I’ve just paid for these though” (No they aren’t, leave me alone)
Old man: “So, where are you going on the train?”
Me: “Waterloo…” (Shit is getting real. I’ve got to pull the cord or I’m going to spend the next 3 hours of my life listening to the confused babblings of Darth Vader)
Old man: “Ah, enough time for a coffee then! Do you fancy it?”
Me: “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go for a cigarette” (I really do want a cigarette, but not being fingered by you is a great bonus)
Though I felt like I was getting hit on, he was probably just a friendly, lonely old man, and I did feel pretty bad.
When actually in London I took up my main daytime hobbies of visiting museums, and making ‘generous donations’ (as my hilarious facebook status suggested) in their free, clean toilets. Why? Well, my girlfriend works in the day a lot, and it’s a fine opportunity to unleash the kracken. I’m hoping to have had a dump in every major Museum by the end of 2012, I’m calling it ‘Sheldons Pooseum Tour’. It also uses up some time until the lady gets off work, as I’m not sure about you folks, but I’ve gone past the point where I can phone a friend in the day to do something that isn’t pre-arranged. What would I even say?
“Hey man, fancy a drink?” It’s 10am. I’m a dirty drunk, but I’m not a 10am ‘strolling shirtless with a carling can’ drunk yet. Also, where are they always going? Do they have somewhere to be?
“Hey man, do you want to go for a coffee?” They aren’t trying to fuck me.
“Hey man, want to watch the game?” They’ll smell a rat. Me and watching sports go together like genitals and herpes – If forced upon me I’ll deal with it, but until then I’d rather give it a miss.
So, I went to Spain with my good lady to stay with friends in Pamplona, and also travelled to other places in France and Spain – St Jean de Luz, St Jean Pier-de-Port, San Sebastian, some beautiful medieval villages, and stayed in Barcelona for two nights. Had an absolutely fantastic time, good mix of spending time with the lady, friends, travelling, wholesomeness and messy nights. Saw the most beautiful sights, met some great people, what can I say. It was just brilliant.
I noticed you really don’t need language that much. Using ‘este’ and ‘canya’ (‘this’ and ‘beer’) fulfilled most of our desires, and that’s not even a joke. I had a sneaking suspicion that 99% of things people say are superfluous or just plain bollocks, and this seemed to confirm it. But then I suppose we can’t go through life pointing at things we want and shouting “WANT” at them....sober, at least.
For the final night out, things got very, very messy. One member of the group was messier than me, and was on a one man stampede of exposure, public urination and general mischievousness, of which I have photos. However, I'm not that mean. Myself, well, I too pushed the boat out, and at the end of the night came back and wreaked havoc on the food supplies of my gracious hosts. Leftovers straight out the fridge, chocolate biscuits with mustard, almost a WHEEL of cheese, and other delights until Amber decided to put a stop to my hunger once and for all, mixing three kinds of cereal in a salad bowl, to which I added more cheese and another biscuit. Like so:
Rumour has it the resulting 'fallout' the next day woke poor Amber from her slumber. I'm fit.
Anything else…oh, I met some sound, drunk choir singers, who in response to my claims of a lie (wasted choir singer in a pub?) belted out some impressive operatic skills. One of them also proceeded to rub his nipples to my yelps of encouragement, “Sexy video! Sexy video!”. Sound a bit of a stretch? Another exaggerated big fish tale from a whiskey soaked fisherman? This time, you can watch!!
One other thing...pinxtos/pinchos as found in Spanish pubs (as pictured at top) are the best thing in the world, and someone needs to get this meaty bar snack thing going on in the UK. Make it happen.
That's all for now, more...stuff....soon! Just good to be back.
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Something that started off as a rambling diatribe about games but ended up with me drawing penises
As a young lad I was presented one Christmas with what I’d only be getting in my wildest dreams; a Super Nintendo, and Super Mario World. Living in the countryside where I only had 7 friends - 2 real, 2 fashioned out of socks and 3 animals, this portal to a world of 16 bit entertainment was a mind saver. The Super Nintendo, at the price of the light autism it gave me, paused the degeneration of my intellect to that of a slack jawed yokel from over socialising with chickens, leaving copious amounts of cider to do the job later in life. Whilst I’m surely predisposed to being a nerd, it likely made me who I am today, and started off my fascination with technology, games, and all things nerdy. Probably that porn with the tentacles and stuff too.
I still love games, but they don't mean as much to me as they did back then. But then, as you grow older you seem to become more cynical about everything. There are two camps of reasoning for this. The first is from people who share irritating life affirming pictures on Facebook, usually something like a kitten riding a dolphin with candy cane reigns, jumping over a barrier that says ‘problems’ on it. These people think cynicism is caused by losing your magical child’s outlook on life, and you need only trust wildly again as you did in younger days to rediscover the trust and beauty in everything. I’m in the second camp, which says if someone repeatedly offers you free beer, then kicks you in the balls every time you try and take it, eventually, you’re going to stop believing in free beer.
This said, a lot of people including myself do keep playing games, so it can't all be a waste of time, can it? Let's have a look...
Against Games - Your life is a god damned mess
It’s not an original observation that games aren’t actually really life, but damn is it important to remember.
Yes, in the game your Warlock is now level 54, because you spent Saturday killing blobs to raise your experience points. In real life however, your levels look quite different. Your hygiene level is rapidly decreasing, your strength has not increased as it says on the screen, as in fact, your muscles are in a state of atrophy from staying still for longer periods than Stephen Hawking. The only real world skill you’ve attained today is how to eat Wotsits with no hands.
After playing through a fascinating adventure game filled with peril, puzzles and excitement to it’s conclusion, you get a feeling of gratification. You’re the champ. You’ve saved the princess, saved the world, you’re a god damn hero. Until that is, you turn off your console to be greeted with a fascinating adventure filled game called your real life, comprising of unwashed clothes, unrealised dreams, and masturbating with the vibrating controller whilst crying the name of your ex partner who recently left you, somewhere around level 5.
For Games – Beat real life in hard mode
You can turn the tables by making real life in to a game, and relating levelling up and achievements to real life. As soon as it's a game, it's fun! It works especially well with exercise.
You made it up the big fucking hill – 50pts.
Fart free weight lift – 100pts
Not sweating like a rapist after ten star jumps - LEVEL UP
Haha, I'm just kidding. I don't do that...... :/
Against Games – Bad Salesmanship
A Good example of this is the Nintendo Wii. The Wii promised an unprecedented new level of human computer interaction, mapping the actions you make in real life to the on screen characters. When you first purchase the Wii and you play tennis, or boxing, you start to think; hey, this is actually working? I’m punching, this guy on the screen is punching, I’M BOXING. I’M A BOXER. You’re jumping around. You’re loving it. Then, a certain amount of time since you and the Wii first met, as with everything from hobbies to lovers, you start putting in a bit less effort. For those examples, it usually means you stop doing it everyday. In this case, it means sitting down. You can still punch sitting down, right? So, it’s still basically boxing. Maybe like wheelchair boxing. Then, you start losing the effort to punch properly. The punches become limp, more like one of those creepy soft handshakes. Slowly, they become mere waggles. But the guy on the screen is still throwing those punches? How can this be? At this point, you realise the only thing the Wii actually does is react to waggles. From Just Dance to Wii Sports, you’d be likely to lose to a Wiimote on top of a washing machine in spin cycle. From this point on, most games become some sort of distressing cyber wankathon, with players hunched over their controllers, waggling as fast as possible. Getting four guys together playing Mario and Sonic at the Olympics looks like a disturbing 21st century soggy biscuit game (Google it...actually, probably don't).
For Games – All Salesmanship is bad salesmanship
At least the wii's controller almost works, and that was the worst example. They've thrown out a lot of stuff that works properly, and even sorted the wii controller out these days with the wii plus (admittedly, you have to pay for the pleasure of getting the controller to work like they said it would, but hey). In the grand scale of things, it's not exactly the only thing that falls short of expectations, is it? This sort of salesmanship is in every day life, all the time. Carpet cleaners promising to get out even the toughest stains, but then when put to the test with pigs blood and semen, always falls short. Air purifiers claiming to nullify any scent, but never seem to eliminate the lingering smell of rotting flesh. Sound proofing that claims to......you know what? Never mind. Even I'm guilty of bad salesmanship, with my flattering own penis size 'big fish' estimations on nights out ranging from fifteen to twenty inches, when in reality it's only twelve.
Against Games - Have I played this before?
In 1981, Shigeru Miyamoto designed the character ‘jump man’ in the game Donkey Kong, who he would later evolve in to Mario. He also designed the legend of Zelda games with the protagonist Link, F-Zero, Donkey Kong, and in general, pretty much every recognisable Nintendo character/game. These characters and games were mainly designed on the Nintendo Entertainment System or NES or earlier, and after this burst of creativity, the whole company decided to buy a very large amount of heroin and proceed to shoot up for the next 15 years, have a week off to make pokemon, then shoot up for another 15 years. I can’t confirm this, but it’s definitely a possibility – because I’m still playing the same games they released 30 years ago, just with better graphics. Was Mario really that much of a stroke of genius that new characters were just out of the question? Even worse, they only remotely new characters are crappy derivatives. Nintendo boardroom:
“Fella’s, we’ve got problems. We designed Mario thirty years ago, and we really jumped the shark. I mean, a fat plumber? How could we beat that? It’s over.”
“But wait….how about another guy that looks like Mario?”
“That’s fantastic! But no, no…..we’ve already got Luigi.”
“Yeah but, we could make him more like Mario. Luigi is taller and slimmer, I think we got carried away and lost what makes a character great.”
“So, another fat plumber?”
“Yeah! Like Mario…Lario?”
“Lario….Fario?”
“Wario….WARIO!”
“Yeah, because an upside down M is like a W, right?”
“Right!”
“So we could make him evil, like, reverse Mario”
“Boys, we’ve done it again”
“Wait…why stop there? How about an evil version of Luigi?”
“Right, right! Like….er…Wa..luigi?”
“Yeah, Waluigi! Because a W upside is an M”
“Yeah, but…that doesn’t really make sense, because of the L”
“Shut up Jenkins”
“Waluigi it is. Champagne?”
And so Wario and Waluigi were born, and were shoved sideways in to every Kart /Board /Sport Mario based extravaganza. And no one really minded. (By the way, the name makes a little bit more sense in Japanese – but it's still bullshit)
For Games - I have played it before! And it was awesome!
I don’t mind. I love it. I’ll keep buying the same recycled crap forever, and they know it.
Why? Because it’s awesome. People are incredibly simple, and I’m a people. People love repetition. I know what I’m in for when I buy another Zelda game, and I love it. Nintendo will take steaming recycled dumps on my chest throughout my life, I’ll pay them a lot of money for it, and then thank them for it. Is it all so bad though? I mean, regular sex with a partner, that falls in to the same category, and let's be fair, it never gets truly boring, does it? And you don't get higher definition nipples every five years or extra vibrating parts. In fact, as time passes, you start to look worse. Let me compare and contrast.
Zelda then, and now:
Me now, and in the future:
In conclusion, games are generally a waste of time, money, and if you really commit, you can ruin your body and social life as well. But going outside isn't much cop either. What can I say, real life should be enjoyed like most mentally damaging commodities – in moderation.
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