My Assorted Antics of Half Term

Half term is a glorious thing, especially February half term in year 13, it is the last chance to relax properly with little/no work to do, the best kind of relaxation. Obviously I had a little bit of work and I went through the motions of motivation appearing and disappearing very quickly. I did myself proud and did my physics homework on the Tuesday and finished it off on Wednesday. I then turned my sights to chemistry only to find I had left my text book at school, what a calamity! This put me off doing any work at all and as a result Sunday evening was spent frantically doing horrifically difficult biology homework. Not my best idea of the week. If you want a more detailed insight into the physics of procrastination read the blog of my friend (and comerade) Dave: mylifeisdaverage.blogspot.com the post called something to do with Winnie the Pooh.

This week featured a landmark in my growing up, I lost my clubbing virginity. It started at a mates house for the pre-lash (and the lash-lash for the under 18s amongst my friends). This consisted of a great deal of beer and playing on the wii. We played Just Dance 2, a game I had brought along which involves dancing in sync with the on-screen avatar. I am absolutely terrible at it but really enjoy it, and so did everyone else so I'm glad I did so. What I lack in dancing skills I more than make up for in virtual driving skills, MarioKart time. First I combined with everyone's favourite Diversity Kid lookalike, James Prince, to form team Joe James (we kept it simple) and blitzed the competition. Then came the Grand Prix, four novices were chosen as captains and they picked their teams. In a team of 3 and as Seed 1 I raced in the First and the Final (4th) races. I destroyed the field in the first race, finishing miles ahead of all my competitors. In the final race I was less lucky, caught in a fierce rivalry with Dan Watts I found myself at the back of the pack. My skillful driving and unparalleled knowledge of the game ensured I was back in front with one lap to go. A stroke of luck on Dan's behalf led to me being hit by a shell on the final stretch allowing him to take first place. With the superior team, the points favoured my team and we came top of the pile. The everything changed, I was made a captain and given last pick. Obviously I made Dave Williams mine, we have an unexplainably good chemistry and link perfectly in competition. Spurring each other on and advising on each race we both turned dire positions into prosperous ones, once again controlling the Grand Prix.

Back on track, clubbing. We went out in Kingston, our night coinciding with Frankie and the Heartstrings performing, luckily I quite like them so in a not very crowded club venue made my way to the front and being as drunk as I was I made myself seem like their biggest fan alongside Stephen Richer. High fived the lead singer twice and the drummer once, and managed to get hold of the set list, a successful night and only two hours into it. Then came the clubbing bit, expensive drinks and loud music, ideally I would have liked it more crowded so the atmosphere was right but had a laugh anyway, Indie and Alternative night ensured the music was brilliant. On the way home I bought a kebab and walked 4 miles before getting to Matt's house at 4 for a cup of tea before sharing his double bed (James got the spare bed and I hate the floor). He got cramp and kicked me at one point.

The next day was tough, I went to see my sister's dancing show with my equally tired girlfriend. It was a two hour show in which my sister featured for about 4 minutes but it was very good and we both enjoyed it. I am a bit OCD about syncronisation and timing so dancing shows exhibit this, easing my crazy mind. We then went back to mine to watch a film, and when I say watch a film I actually mean watch a film, we watched Goodnight Mr Tom, a film I love. Under normal circumstances it gets me a bit teary but in my fragile and unstable state it had me crying twice, oh dear.

The day did not end on a high, I got an email telling me Bristol University had rejected my application to study there, I was not happy, although I didn't particularly want to go there, the feeling of rejection is still pretty horrible, especially since they made an offer to someone I know for the course I wanted who is about as dim as a broken streetlight. Oh well, as my nan always says "their loss dear".

Frowned Upon

A lot of things in this world are not allowed, murder, theft, rape etc. all pretty nasty things but with laws help to prevent people doing this and punish those who do. Everything that is not against the law must therefore be considered doable, people can go by doing these law-abiding activities and noone is bothered. Unfortunately this is not the case and there is a very large grey area in between, this area contains many activities and things that are perfectly legal but seen as the wrong thing to be doing. This grey area can be named "The Frowned Upon Zone". Not illegal but not appreciated either. Naturally The Frowned Upon Zone contains a variety of things, from the should-be-illegal playing shit music out loud in public, using a seat for your bag on the bus or fat people wearing promiscuous clothing/being topless to the London-etiquette such as talking to people you don't know, wearing tracksuits out to dinner and eating food from one shop while in another. One that usually divides opinion is pissing in the shower, think about that one.

One particular thing that is frowned upon greatly is public flatulence, obviously it is rather unpleasant but it should be acceptable, the passing of gas is perfectly natural and everyone does it, even the Royal Family. Not only this but it is not healthy to hold it in, trapped gas is incredibly painful and if it diffuses into cells or the bloodstream it cocks up the pH (another Beaumontism) causing pain and problems, after being around any female (especially my girlfriend) for a lengthy period of time I am in horrific pain for a couple of hours while everything sorts itself out inside me. A country in Africa is even considering making public flatulence illegal! Madness! Not only a ridiculous law but pretty difficult to enforce. The police will have to resort to "he who smelt it, dealt it" or "he who denied it, supplied it". And for those of us that blush very easily, we are in serious trouble, facing lengthy sentences for farts that were not ours.

I am going to start being more literal in life and surveying the general public, standing somewhere and frowning at those who perform an action deemed within "The Frowning Zone", perhaps even encourage others to join me.

Blogging Scrapbook

I have been collecting dribs and drabs that would make up something to write about but nothing really substantial came up so I'm going to collect all of my little snapshots of interestingness and stick it together in this scrapbook of a post. Enjoy my rough, untidy patchiness, after all, a scrapbook should never be neat and organised.

Let me start by say welcome my Labels and Jellyspoons. I may sound mad but this is what is known in my school as a Beaumontism, a phrase used and made famous by my slightly eccentric but infinitely brilliant chemistry teacher Mr Beaumont. He has lots of little phrases that are commonplace in lessons but if used in an exam would leave the examiner thinking you are a dribbling fool or escaped lunatic (Mr Beaumont is neither). An extremely popular one is "it will just sit there and smile at you" meaning "it won't react" not to mention "this is going to kick some arse" which naturally means "it is very reactive". I have had a sudden mind blank of the other good ones so any readers who have been taught by Mr B, feel free to add some in the comments box.

Next little scrap for the book - Valentine's Day, believe it or not, I am not a fan of February 14th. I sometimes abandon my usual conservative views in favour of radical socialist views (just ask me my opinion on starbucks) and Valentine's Day is one of these times. Why do I need to spend an enormous amount of money on my girlfriend, just to prove that I quite like her? I prefer to spread my heart out, spontaneous flowers in mid-June, just because I happened to walk past some flowers with a bit of spare change, out to dinner at the beginning of October, because I feel like a treat or a hand written letter at the end of March, just because I'm in the mood for it. Unfortunately the corporate dogs in all their money grabbing wisdom, made a day in which it is customary, almost obligatory to treat your other half (my better half). To take it further, restaurants, supermarkets, card makers, chocolatiers and just about every feasible activity double-treble their prices to milk as much money out of men desperate to buy their way into their spouses knickers later that night. Men judge each other on their plans for the Mrs, looking down on those who are planning "a quiet night in" instead of a romantic cruise on the river or dinner and fireworks at sunset on the hill where we shared our first kiss, ruthless competition between males drives them further to prove they can treat their woman better than the next guy. The world needs more spontaneity, not ruthlessly organised gift buying. Having said all this I did fork out for a rose, champagne, dinner and a card. Why? Because it is the rules, obviously my girlfriend is great and deserves the best treatment I can possibly give but why does it have to be scheduled by the retail calendar? Then there is the even worse side to Valentine's day, single people feel terrible, another year with no plans, I'll just sit at home, watch a film, eat chocolate and feel sorry for myself. If treating her was spontaneous then desperately lonely people would cry themselves to sleep one night less each year.

If you ever find yourself walking down Sutton high street on a Sunday evening you will be struck by how desolate it is, I felt like I was walking through a post-apocalyptic world, shops all shut, completely deserted, rain falling and the only sounds being my footprints and the rain on my umbrella.

When I go to work, I get the bus to Cheam to meet up with my beautiful girlfriend before going to work. It is these frequent journeys to Cheam from Sutton that has led me to alter one of the worlds oldest sayings: "There are only two certainties in life: death and taxes" ~Ben Franklin but was misheard in London and converted to "death and taxis". I realised this is wrong, the two things in life you can be absolutely certain of are death and 213 buses.

Four scraps - more of a scrapbooklet than a scrapbook, oh well, happy scrapping.

My Glorious Return

I'm back, it has been a long absence, nearly a month. I have had exams you see, three nasty horrible A-level exams (and two AS retakes) totalling five opportunities for me to make or break my future. This entailed a great amount of revision, essentially ruining the Christmas holidays for me. Revision requires a substantial amount of willpower, which I undoubtedly have, I went without alcohol for four weeks in the run up to the exams, not an easy feat. I have always wanted someone to question my will so I can say " Tah, no will, my middle name is will!" (it is actually William making it a brilliantly clever thing to say).

Going without alcohol for so long was pretty tough, especially when the person you are attempting it with is a raging alcoholic who can't even manage 3 weeks, cough cough Matt Pottle! We went to a lads curry night with all my mates to order and eat curry, play FIFA11 and drink ourselves silly, or in the case or Matt and I, make a pot of tea and have a lovely civilised chat. Our pot was ruined by some twat pouring lager in it, we were not impressed.

After finishing my exams (Physics unit 4 was my last exam) we went to the pub to celebrate, 4 weeks dry meant I was pretty liberal and had a full wallet and drank in excess for several hours, it was brilliant. I was then at a mate's neon themed party the next night, drinking to excess, covering myself and others in neon paint and making brilliant noble gas jokes ensued. It was the next morning, whilst playing football in the bitter cold that it hit me, it was still January, I'm only half way through the year and still have to go to school. Damn.

I have a warning for anyone reading this, recently I have developed an urge for conflict with whoever is unfortunate to make me snap. This started while I was playing football, I always have the slight urge to argue with referees, being a referee myself it gives me firepower in the form of knowledge. I can catch them out on technicalities, make them look foolish and ultimately achieve nothing but smugness and satisfaction. This has got to the extent that I want them to make bad decisions, giving me reason to argue with them in the hope they will say "and are you a referee" so I can go "yes I am" and metaphorically give them the two finger salute. So yeah, don't annoy me because I already have my argument prepared against you, whoever you are.

Whilst having a conversation about "The Man" (see previous post) a friend reminded me of something that happened to me today. While walking to school I was overtaken by a small child who was running, in an attempt to get him to come back his dad shouted "come back, he is much bigger than you, and might squash you" referring to me. This man does not know me, just assumes I am a clumsy-child-crushing-buffoon. I have never crushed a child.

Hope you have enjoyed my return.