Tag: Boredom

Iron Man faints at the gym!


A bizarre title you might say but it was a bizarre series of events if I’m honest.

I’ll make this a quick one as I have already blogged today, but this made me laugh so here you go.

I have a suit of armour in my front lounge. I say front lounge as though I have more than one but I don’t. I have a tiny lounge, and my knight stands in the corner glaring at people as they enter the room. I’m seriously thinking of fitting a little microphone thing inside his helm and saying ‘NONE SHALL PASS’ to whoever comes to visit me.

He was almost menacing. Almost… until you spot the rubber gloves.

That would be cool right? But I digress.

A friend and his autistic son came and visited me today to drop off some goat food (Yes, I have goats.) and the young lad was in awe of my suit of armour. He kept poking it which causes my eye to twitch in what I presume is irritation and barely restrained gorilla rage. He keeps poking until it starts to sway at which point I feel the need to ask them both to leave. The father was somewhat embarrassed and I kind of feel bad, but hey… nobody pokes my knight in the groin.

A little while later I receive a text message from the father, firstly apologising and secondly telling me that his son thinks I am Tony Stark, aka Iron Man. Now I found this to be hugely cool. I have never been a hero before, even in my dreams. (Yes, I have been a Jedi.) To make things even cooler, my wife also bumped into them and the son asked her if I was a superhero. Ever up for a practical joke she simply replied, ‘Oh I wouldn’t be allowed to answer that. Superhero’s need to have a disguise, don’t they?’

She said his face lit up as though he were the only one in the world to know my secret. Priceless.

So, I am now a superhero in the eyes of an autistic child. Now, superhero’s need to look pretty super. They have to look all muscular and strong so that the baddies know they’ve picked on the wrong guy, and so I went down the gym. Now it’s important to remember a few facts here.

  1. I am now an approved superhero.
  2. I have not been to the gym in at least six months.
  3. The Olympics is on and they play it on huge screens in the gym, egging you on to greater feats of endurance and godliness.

I only did half an hour and boy did I feel as though I’d run for a week and lifted every rock and stone of Hadrian’s Wall. I left the gym and I have to say I was feeling pretty good until I stepped outside. My wife met me (as she had been swimming) and said that my lips were grey and that I had less colour than paper. I have to admit to feeling rather ill. We drove home as quickly as possible where upon getting in the house I promptly collapsed. My wife tells me I had no pulse at my wrist at this time and had it not been for my pitiful cries I could have been dead. Not a good look. Thank god the autistic kid didn’t see that.

Yes, I realise this is not Iron Man.

Right, that’s it for today. I need my rest. Hopefully my dignity will grow back as I sleep.

M J

I don’t feel like writing today.


I really don’t feel like writing today. And yet, I have to.

This is one of those creative writing advice things that you find somewhere near the front of just about every creative writing book out there. You the know the one, “Try to write a little something every day. Even if you don’t feel like it.” To be honest, I’m not feeling the love right now. It would be so easy to shut this program down and fire up a game. I’d have much more fun, at least for a time. Then my shoulder angel would appear and say something like ‘You know, if you didn’t waste your time playing these games, you could be writing the back story for them.’ This almost always happens, and how the hell do you argue with that anyway?

Then the shoulder devil appears and speaks his hard to ignore words, ‘Don’t listen to that guy. He’s full of crap. He wants to lead you down the path that sucks. I’m not. You’re doing just fine on your own. Look! You’re a level ten druid.’

This is my life. I have conversations with these guys daily.

Well, I’ve resisted the cool devil guy and here I am. This is a good thing. I feel better already for having sat here and let my mad fingers go to town over the keyboard. It could have been an ugly experience, especially if I’d had writers block. That could have led to a very grumpy and depressing afternoon. But no, this is good. My mind is working, the circuits are firing, and new synapses are growing in my skull. My mind is being charged up for a potent release of genius. I can feel it….
Hmmm. Any minute now…. any minute and genius will strike. I’ll never suffer with writer’s block again. Come to think of it, when do you start calling yourself a writer? Technically, as I have actually published a total of fuck all then I’m not really a writer am I? So what the hell have I got if not writers block? Depression? Brain damage? Hmmm. Something is going to have to change soon. I can’t go on staring at blank screens and wondering why I can’t do it.

That’s right… because the computer is to blame for your lack of talent.

It’s a damn good thing I’m not being paid for this. My boss (hypothetical) would no doubt be wondering how best to lay me off. I’ve just had the strangest mental image. I’m going to have to try to find an image to encapsulate it.

This needs no caption. Oh wait… this is a caption.

Well then. This is just getting silly now. Although, I thinks its been worthwhile. It’s a few hundred words I wouldn’t have written if nothing else.

Lets see what madness tomorrow brings.

M 🙂

Think…. think… oh sod it.


The title pretty much sums it up. I’m supposed to be studying and yet I keep getting sucked into bloody Facebook and various other forums,

Well, in an effort to do something constructive I thought, ‘Hey! Why don’t I write on my blog?’

I mean, its been fucking aeon’s since I even looked at this thing.

Damn this wine is good.

You see what happened there? I was telling you how long its been since I wrote something and then I go and get all involved with the wine again. I’ve been doing that all night. You don’t believe me? Ha, well I started that last sentence a half hour ago. I’ve been trawling through Facebook since. Oh, and Its my second glass since even starting this post.

Damn this wine is good.

Did I mention I like motorbikes? I do. I think they are gods own mode of transport, should he actually need anything. Anyway, this is just a random tangent I’m letting my fingers tread so bare with me a while longer. I’ll tell you about my latest project. Take a look at this…..

Image
I call this beast El’Rusto. Its a fucking heap…. for now.

This beast has been keeping me busy for a few weeks now. I bought as a project and possible business venture with the wife. The plan was to buy up mechanically sound but otherwise cosmetically challenged bikes and make them look all pretty again. Simple eh? I mean its bomb proof right? Eh-er!

Its been a bloody disaster. Okay disaster is a bit harsh. Its not worked out quite how I thought it would. To save time here, and because I am a super lazy fucker, I will now compile a list of things I have learned and that have most likely fucked me off over the past few weeks.

  • CBR 125’s are as plentiful as council estate chavs.
  • Many council estate chavs are highly likely to own a CBR 125 at some time or another.
  • Being a chav, they are also highly likely to neglect little things like, oh I don’t know, servicing, MOT, basic maintenance. That sort of thing. Anything important that would involve any degree of responsibility.
  • Its also highly probable our friendly chav does not own a garage or even a shed. El’Rusto will sit outside in the garden, alongside a fridge maybe, and possibly a sofa.
  • If, like me, you are super keen to get to work and hopefully turn a profit, you’ll discover that because of all of the above, you’re in for real treat.
  • On getting the bike home (and into some decent light that doesn’t involve Mr Chav showing you the bike via a zippo lighter) you discover that the bike is more rust than anything else.
  • All of the fairings are scratched, cracked or both.
  • Every single serviceable item i.e air filter, spark plugs, breather pipes etc. are all absolutely fucking knackered.
  • An oil change will have you tearing at your own eyes as you struggle to make sense of the black sludge that drains from the sump.
  • Inspection of coolant will reveal that there is none.
  • Same for break fluid.
  • The forks will be badly pitted with the fork seals resembling something like Mrs Chav’s knickers after a night on the town.
  • You’ll probably sigh with relief as your realise the tires appear to be in good order, only to realise that that the rims are banana shaped.
  • Every little task you set yourself will, upon further investigation, be hiding a fucking big problem requiring not the half hour you planned but a full day.
  • I could go on… but the wine is running low.

I’m so glad this is good wine.

So, not to worry. The bike project is finally starting to make some headway now. I have conquered most of the major problems and corrected them and I’m happy to say that I think I nearing the finishing line. No, don’t applause. I’ve been here before and I don’t want anyone fucking clapping until that thing passes its MOT. I’m not sure if I had a goal prior to starting this other than to make money but now I certainly have one. I’d like this thing to pass its MOT first time with no advisories. That would be bloody wonderful and a testament to my manly skills too.

Right, wine? Wine??? Where the fuck is my wine?

Bashing One Out


No no no no… you filthy bastards.

I am not doing what you think. I am not a one armed typist regardless of what some might say.

I thought, as I have nothing to do at this particular moment that I’d come and randomly post something on whatever comes into my head. You must appreciate the fact that this could be quite surreal.

I know! I’ll write about what the rest of this week is going to bring for me. I can do this because I am psychic now.

Tomorrow

This will be a great day. Work will ring me to say there is no need to come in for rest of the week. I am their best and they can’t risk exhausting me by sending me out on “emergency calls”.

Then after I put the phone down I will drive to the local Tesco and pick me up a copy of Aliens Vs Predator for my xbox360.

Drive home.

Insert disc into xbox360.

Secure and arrange a massive pile of munchy food and a cup of tea.

Spend twenty minutes trying to decide which character to play. The Alien? Could do, but lack of a gun would make me wish I had a gun. Marine? Yeah right. So I get munched by an Alien or have my skull ripped out by a predator? Gay marines. That leaves Predator then. Or as I call him El Diablo Coolio.

Tuesday

Leave house and secure more munchy food.

Play Aliens Vs Predator a bit…

Go to bed after playing a bit. Say about Midnight then.

Wednesday

Get up and go check the xbox is still there and working correctly.

Maybe go out at lunch time to secure munchy foods.

Come back and make cup of tea.

Assess Aliens Vs Predator’s ability to be played hard.

Thursday

Might go online and see if anyone wants to play Aliens Vs Predator.

Drink tea.

Friday

Discover Wednesdays lottery ticket. It’s a winner!

Celebrate with tea.

Call up work and tell them I will longer be coming back as I am now a full time Predator.

Saturday

Do some writing. I really should do this. Perhaps I shall instead keep a log of my best kills throughout the week? If I was really good…

Because I am so freaking good, I shall write a guide to any nOOb predators out there. They will read it an be in awe of my amazingness. Yes that is a word. Its predator speak and translates as Fucking Awesome.

Sunday

I doubt I will be able to play this day as Jemma may rip my sack off like a paper towel. Instead I shall likely stalk the house like a predator and hunt the cat. I even have my own laser pen! I could point it from odd angles and leap out from behind stuff. She better not give away my hiding places…

‘I don’t care who you are back in the world. You give our position one more time, I’ll bleed you, real quiet . . . leave you here.’

She’ll just have to accept it as the new me. I’ll not have her saying anything about my predator costume again either.

Sounds like a pretty awesome week to me.

Face it, you’ll probably not have as much fun as me this week.

M 🙂