The electricity company. They bully me into paying them money which means I have to go to work. Those bastards...

Ok, we've all seen the fridge magnets; we all know the score. Cats, they say, are smarter than men, smarter than Egyptians, smarter than people in general. The average cat, in the imagination of the general population, is described as crafty, haughty, or downright devious. Cats are held aloft, elevated above the intelligence level of other domestic animals, far smarter than mere dogs, practically human in their level of cruel calculation.

( Explanations under the cut... )

Well the gay penguins separated and shacked up with heterosexual female partners to make sweet swet penguin love so I guess it's official that homosexuality is unnatural. Game's over boys time for you to pack up those feather boas and asslees chaps (yes I know all chaps are assless otherwise they would be trousers but it sounds funny so I'm going to keep saying it) and return to lives of quiet repression.

( Frankie says relax, it's not an anti gay post... )

I've always been a 3 pillow sort of a person. 3 Pillows are where it's at. 3 pillows traditionally covered the ground between head and shoulder nicely while compensating for the additional me shaped bend in the matress caused by the sideflab.

I have to say at this point that I don't generally spend a lot of time thinking about pillows. Pillows it's fair to say are not something that really interests me. I'm being defnsive I know but I don't want you all thinking that I am some sort of soft furnishing fethishist that likes to hang around in DFS smelling the futons. I'm not and I haven't, although as with all things in my life I might have to tag a 'yet' to the end of that denial.

lately however I have become victim to what I am terming the pillow gap. The pillow gap, a phrase I clearly had to invent myself as no-one else is dedicating any time at all to the issue, is the gap that used to be filled by the 3rd pillow but is now no longer 3rd pillow appropriate.

You see the problem is that now I've lost a lot of weight (still lots to go by the way) I don't really need the 3rd pillow anymore. The me sized dent in the matress is clearly less gargantuan than it used to be and now if I try to use 3 pillows I end up waking in the morning with the distinct impression that someone snuck into my room and stood on my neck.

All this would of course be a complete non issue if it wasn't for the fact that i'm still not quite small enough to be a mere 2 pillow person. As a result I either go for 3 pillows and have a neck crick in one direction or 2 pillows and a neck crick in the other direction. That makes it sound like I always sleep facing the same direction doesn't it? Well I don't I like to live dangerously sometimes I even go amd and sleep diagnonally. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

So it's a damned if you do and a damned if you don't type situation. Oh sure you might say that I could buy thinner pillows or that I could replace one of the pillows with a slightly fatter pillow but that would take planning and probably a tip to Homebase and I'm not a big fan of Homebase.

What I'll actually do is probably not sleep very well for the next six months until i've lost enough weight to be a straight up 2 pillow man and then I'll stop biting the head off my loved ones for suggesting stupid things like buying soft furnishings which are of different proportions to ones that i already own.

I apologise if this makes no sense to you but this really is one of the most burning issues of our times and it needs proper recognition as such...

I'd tell him to duck and then throw a shoe at his head. Come to think of it I already did.

In your face causality!

I like boredom. Boredom is my primary motivator in life. if it wasn't for the existence of boredom I would have spent the majority of my life sitting at the back of buses licking the windows and feeling content. Not having a high boredom tolerance however means that instead I am generally stuck in one vast interweaving Wikipedia loop as a method of controlling the inner window licker.

So anyway it is therefore generally the case that the more boring a situation is the more likely I am to have an idea for a blog post. This is possibly why I haven't been blogging so much lately, not because I don't have time but because I have just enough work to do to stave off the worst excesses of my minds bored flights of fancy. Also I took up smoking again and smoking is the antidote to boredom.

I have anyway compiled a list of the most boring activities in the universe so you can get some idea of where I was standing when I thought of the idea to write a blog post about being bored.

( Read more... )

I'm willing to concede that there are many things in the world that I don't understand. I don't, for example, understand any of the following: advanced physics, basic physics, quantum anything, the enduring popularity of Justin Bieber, the staggering lack of wrinkles on David Cameron's taut and stretched tent like face and of course women in general.

One thing that I defintely don't understand though is the distinction between costume jewelry and actual jewelry. I might be being deliberately simple on the issue but to me (and I suspect a large proportion of the y chromosome holding half of the population) all jewelry is in fact, when you get right down to it costume jewelry.

( Rant on... )

So I got home the day before yesterday and discovered that Dobby the house elf was real and that he had cleaned my house. On making enquiries I was crushingly disappointed to find out that in fact it was simply my mum and sister who had, in a fit of apparent boredom, decided to hold and anti riot and tidy my house. I'm guessing retirement isn't all that it's cracked up to be...

So anyway as a feeble payback I'll write a post that I have been mulling over for a while about mum superpowers as it is much cheaper than buying her flowers. I'm a classy kind of guy.

Somnovision.

It doesn't matter if you feel fresh as a daisy, switched on andready to rock, your mother knows otherwise. She can see through the flimsy pretence of being awake and knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are in fact tired and that this is the reason that you aren't warming to the lime green and purple sweater vest that she is attempting to get you to try on. When confronted with the idea that you are not tired she will simply wait for you to fall asleep and then loudly claim victory.

Cateronomy.

The ability to adapt her cooking plans to accomodate a large, and uninvited, collection of assorted friends and relatives that have appeared with begging bowls in hand at just about the time she was about to serve up. Jesus may have been able to feed the 5 thousand with just some bread and fish but my mum can feed the whole extended family with just a 4 pack of burgers and a tin of beans. Not that we actually eat burgers anymore because she's gone all posh (give quiche a chance) but the principle is the same with cous cous.

Mischief Mind Reading.

When you have mischief in mind she knows. It doesn't matter if you hide it, bury the evidence, and cover yourself with an entire can of Lynx deodorant, she still knows. Whether or not she lets you know that she knows all depends on whether or not you eat your greens and how good you are at reading the patterns left in the bottom of your cup of tea.

Sexovision.

Wherever two or more people (or animals) of opposing sexes are gathered together on the television in a state of undress then shall your mother appear. It doesn't matter if it's Disney's Aladdin or Debbie does Dallas if there's even a glimpse of a boob (covered or otherwise) your mum will be there with a cup of tea and a knowing glance. How she knows and how she manages to cover the ground inbetween instantly is a mystery that will probably never be solved.

Diagnosorama.

Upon being confronted with your illness she can instantly diagnose the cause and the solution to your problem, which is usually half a paracetamol. In the eyes of my mother there is virtually no illness that cannot be fixed by 1 quarter of the recommended dose of a mild painkiller. In the case of a zombie apocalypse mum is almost certainly destined to be eaten by the zombie version or one of us as she attempts to cure the ravenous need for human flesh with a half paracetamol and a glass of water.

Uberdexrousity.

The ability to do absolutely everything one handed while holding a baby, talking on a phone wedged between her shoulder blades and loading the dishwasher with her feet. Mum's make Ninjas look like a bunch of unco-ordinated muppets in pajamas. Mum's don't waste time wondering if it's possible they just do it so fast the laws of relativity don't have time to catch up and realise that it actually isn't.

Antifashionista.

If there's a particular style of clothing that is unfashionable at any point in time mum's are instantly aware of this and have decided that this is the style that you ought to wear. If there's a type of hair parting that makes you look like a complete doofus then they know this too. With great power goes great responsibility and they take that seriously. They have a responsibility to make you look as stupid as possible in order to properly formulate the character that you will need in later life to blag your way out of a speeding ticket. It's tough love...

So there you have them. Be afraid. Be very afraid... Or not, to be honest they are not that scary.

No Blog Post for you today. But I have a short Story so you can read that. I'm provisionally calling it 'Tick Tock' though I might change that later. It's probably a bit more depressing that you are used to. I'm warning you now so you don't complain about it later.( Tick Tock )